


Weekender

by WrathoftheStag (Mwuahna)



Series: Weekender [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: A Weekend of Shenanigans, Check please au, F/M, Falconers Convention, Happily Ever After, I promise!, Jack and Bitty Meet at a Hockey Convention, Jack didn't go to Samwell, Jack is slow as hell to get with the program, M/M, Mutual Pining, Ransom and Holster are Everyone's Favorite, Slow Burn, Tater is the life of the party, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-10-27 19:31:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 34,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10815288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mwuahna/pseuds/WrathoftheStag
Summary: Jack hates conventions -- the crowds, the noise, the forced socialization, but it's a work thing that must be done. Enter Samwell Hockey Player, Eric Bittle, who attends the convention with a group of friends. Suddenly things begin to look up. Jack and Bitty meet at Falcs Fest. Flirting, shenanigans, and love ensue.





	1. Before the Fest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>    
> 

“Jack, I realize it’s not how you want to spend your weekend,” George said then paused to take a long sip of coffee. “But it is what it is, and everyone has to do it.” She smiled and added, “So suck it up, mister.”

Jack frowned, “Fine. Fine. Everyone else has to attend, too, right? Everyone?”

George leaned back in her chair and nodded, “Yes. Tater, Thirdy, Guy, Marty, Snowy, Poots -- everyone. Misery loves company, after all.”

Jack huffed petulantly. 

“I’m kidding!” George said with a laugh, “Come on. The Hawks are always bragging about their damn convention, so we have to make our inaugural one fantastic and have _everyone_ there.”

Jack shrugged and took a pen from George's desk. He twirled it absentmindedly in his fingers.

“Jack, it’ll be fine, and guess what? You might actually enjoy it. An entire weekend surrounded by adoring fans, eating anything you want, being handed people’s babies, dancing and whatnot?”

Jack got up and pushed his chair in. “Thanks, George.”

George smiled, then took her attention back to her computer as Jack loomed in her office doorway.

“Yes, Jack?” She asked as she wrote something in an appointment book.

“Do we have to stay at the hotel, too?”

“Up to you, Jack. Do you feel like driving home back and forth early in the morning and late at night? Most of the guys are making a weekend of it and staying there. There'll be team brunches every morning. We still have a couple rooms available in the block we reserved, so you can stay there if you want.”

Jack frowned again.

George paused and looked at him, “A little fun won’t kill you, Zimmermann.”

Jack nodded, attempted a meager smile and exited George’s office.

"Oh, and Jack?"

"Yes?

"Can I have my pen back?"

**+++**

“So you know how Annie’s has that ‘Drop Your Business Card Here!’ thing on the counter to win free coffee and junk?” Ransom said as he stormed into the Haus kitchen, out of breath.

“Uh-huh,” Lardo replied as she sewed a patch onto her jean jacket at the kitchen table. Her tongue poked out of the side of her mouth.

Bitty turned to look from the counter where he rolled out some dough.

“And you know how my mom got me that set of business cards for my birthday?”

“Yeah, those 500 cards that say _Justin Oluransi, M.D._?” Bitty said with a smirk.

Ransom nodded furiously. 

“Yeah, yeah! So I dropped a ton in there last week, only it turned out it wasn’t for free coffee. We fucking won!” he shouted.

Holster ran downstairs and into the kitchen. “Dude! I just got your text. What’s up?”

“We won!” Ransom shouted again, as he jumped up and down.

Holster joined him and shouted, “Hell yeah! What did we win‽”

“We won four VIP tickets to Falcs Fest in August!” 

Holster pumped the air and screeched, as Bitty and Lardo laughed.

“Do you know what this means?” Ransom yelled. “All four of us get to hang out with The Alexei 'Tater' Mashkov that entire weekend!”

“All four of us?” Bitty asked as he put down his rolling pin.

“‘Chyeah! I won four tickets: me, you, Holster and Lardo are going!”

All four of them jumped up and bounced in one giant hug-filled circle. Bitty and Lardo didn’t have the same amount of enthusiasm as their friends, but they smiled and looked at one another and laughed. 

A weekend surrounded by beautiful hockey men? Bitty thought there were worse ways to spend time.

**+++**

The four had made plans to return to the Haus the first week in August giving them plenty of time before the convention, which Bitty had no problem with. It would afford him ample time to refresh the Haus for the new school year; he’d wash the curtains, get the kitchen in perfect working order, set up the Frogs’ room -- all at his leisure. Whereas Ransom and Holster had plans to lay out on the front lawn shooting the LAX bros with water guns and drinking margaritas till the very last vestiges of summer were gone.

“Since when are you two mixologists?” Lardo asked as she sat on the front steps and sketched the two as they lounged on the grass.

“It’s actually just tequila and Sprite,” Holster said over his sunglasses. “But close enough, right?”

“I’ll say,” Ransom replied as he covertly aimed his water gun at one of the Chads across the street and squirted him.

Bitty walked outside and plopped himself in between Ransom and Holster. He reached over, took one of their cups, and had a big sip.

“Lord, this is nasty,” Bitty said with a grimace, and continued to drink it.

“So Taterfest is T-minus three days,” Ransom said wistfully.

“You do know they’ll be other players there, right?” Lardo said.

“Mashkov is the only one that matters,” Ransom replied, as he kicked off his flip flops. He rolled over onto his stomach and looked at the Haus toward Lardo. “Which reminds me, you two better not embarrass us.”

“Hear, hear!” Holster added.

Lardo rolled her eyes, “You two embarrass me all the time.”

“True, but not with stuff that matters,” Ransom quickly replied.

“Embarrass you how?” Bitty asked as he returned Holster’s Solo cup. 

“Dude, you drank all my fauxgarita.”

“I did you a favor,” said Bitty. “So again, I ask, embarrass you how?”

“When we go to Taterfest, at least try to act interested and like you know who some of the guys are.”

“I know who they are,” Lardo said.

“Oh yeah? Name a couple?” Ransom said as he got up to pour himself some more tequila and Sprite from the kitchen.

“Well there’s Tater, obviously. And Dopey, Doc, Sneezy… Grumpy is the one with the beard, right? Hey! Get me some, too, Rans.”

Bitty pulled out his phone and Googled the team. Everyone’s team photo came up in the search results.

Holster leaned in, “Who you got there?”

“Sebastian St. Martin… that’s a good face,” Bitty said. 

“That’s Marty, one of the alternate captains along with Randall ‘Thirdy’ Robinson, and Jack Zimmermann. Marty is from Quebec.”

Bitty continued to scroll through the photos.

“See?” Holster said as he pointed. “That’s Thirdy -- he writes poetry. And that’s the other alternate captain, Jack Zimmermann.”

“Oh,” Bitty said as he saw Jack’s photo. A stoic face looked back at the camera, a face with the bluest eyes Bitty had ever seen. “Oh... my. Hello, nurse!”

Holster laughed, “Yeah, Mr. Hockey Robot over here. Good luck finding a picture of him smiling.”

Ransom came back with a coffee mug, which hung off his pinky, filled with hot dogs, a bag of buns under his arm, a bottle of ketchup in his back pocket, and two cups in the each hand. 

“What did I miss?” 

“Bitty getting a hard on over Smiley McGee there,” Lardo said as she took one of the drinks.

“You must be talking about Jack Zimmermann. I bet _his_ autograph lines won’t be too long.”

“Now that’s not nice,” Bitty said. 

“I’m just saying,” Ransom said as he plopped down and placed the mug of hot dogs and the buns on the grass. “He’s really quiet and everyone says he’s hard to talk to. Still, dude’s a total hockey god.”

“I think he’s adorable,” said Bitty. 

“And has an ass that won’t quit,” Ransom added.

“It’s true! Thanks for making lunch, bro,” Holster said.

“Justin Oluransi,” Bitty said as he took a hot dog. “Did you just microwave these in this mug?” 

“Sure did! Bon appétit, everyone,” Ransom replied as he put a dog in a bun and drenched it in ketchup.

Bitty zoomed in on Jack’s photo. He had sad eyes. Sad, but kind. Eyes that Bitty could easily get lost in. How quiet and hard to talk to could he possibly be? 

Bitty guessed he’d find out in a few days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll most likely be updating this twice a week. I already have the outline done, and will just be cranking it out as quickly as I can. Did I mention there will be a drunken conga line? Shhh! Don't tell.
> 
> _Check, Please!_ characters created by the wonderful Ngozi.
> 
> Come and say hi on [Tumblr](http://wrathofthestag.tumblr.com).


	2. Fest Day 1:  Friday Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fest is finally upon us. What will happen during check in? Dun-dun-duuuunn! I'm planning on having the next chapter up tomorrow.

“Everybody lock your bedroom door?” Bitty asked as he double checked Señor Bun was in his bag while he stood by the green couch.

“Yes, mom,” everyone else replied in unison from wherever they were in the Haus. 

“The Lyft is outside,” Ransom said by the front door, as he motioned to everyone to leave while he hauled his duffle bag over his shoulder. “So let’s go, go, go!”

Lardo locked the front door as Bitty, Holster and Ransom made their way to the car and loaded the bags in the trunk.

“I call shotgun,” Holster shouted and jumped into the front seat of the Lyft car. He smiled at the startled driver. 

“Adam. Pleasure to meet you,” he called out and extended his hand.

“What did you pack, bro?” Lardo asked as Ransom climbed in with an overstuffed backpack.

“Just some stuff for Tater to sign: a couple jerseys, some bobbleheads, a few magazines, a couple pucks, a copy of his autobiography. Oh! A box of Wheaties with Tater on it…”

“Bro, stalker much?” Holster said as he turned to look back at Ransom.

“Listen, don’t judge," Ransom said and waved a finger at Holster. "I can’t help it if the man is a hockey legend who deserves to be worshipped.”

“Take this man to church!” Bitty said while he laughed and pointed toward the highway.

45 minutes later, they were dumped in front of the Providence Hilton where a large banner hung outside welcoming everyone to Falcs Fest. 

The lobby teemed with activity as fans poured in and out of the space, some already wore their lanyards. Festooned about the lobby were large standing signs with photos of various players, as well as signs which pointed people toward festival registration and showed the weekend’s schedule.

“‘Swawesome,” Ransom and Holster said, as they stood in front of the Mashkov sign taking a selfie.

Lardo and Bitty looked around as they saw all the Falconers’ fans lining up to check into the hotel. 

“Lardo and I’ll get in line to check in while you finish your… whatever,” Bitty said as he waved a hand at Ransom who threw kisses at Tater’s photo. 

Holster shot Bitty a thumbs up as he snapped more photos.

**+++**

“Zimmboni, is good you decide to smile a little,” Tater said as he helped himself to a chocolate donut in their lounge. The hotel staff had put aside one suite as an ersatz common room for the team to relax throughout the weekend.

Jack nodded and shrugged, and broke off a tiny piece from Tater’s donut but then put it down on a napkin at the last minute. 

“Might as well get in the spirit of the weekend,” he replied glumly.

“Is that what that is? A smile?” Guy said. “I saw more fucking cheer at my nana’s funeral.”

Everyone laughed.

Thirdy called from the couch he sat on, “All I know is this weekend, I can sign a bunch of shit, eat some good food, meet the fans, and actually sleep in for once -- no tiny voices yelling at me to wake up. No dogs I have to walk at the ass crack of dawn.” He sighed dreamily.

Marty laughed, and clapped him on the shoulder, “Sure, Thirdy. Sure. By tonight, you’ll be crying about how much you miss your wife and kids.”

“Nuh-uh! They’ll be texting and tweeting me, updating what they’re doing this weekend,” he said as he held up his phone. “See?”

Poots walked into the lounge and excitedly held a giant Toblerone. “Look! My room had this on the pillow!”

“Nice,” Snowy said as he held out his hand, waiting for a piece. “So you’re definitely not staying here, Jack?” 

Snowy caught the chocolate bar as Poots threw it in his direction.

“No, I... no. I just sleep better at home. We stay in enough hotel rooms as it is.”

Snowy broke off a chunk of chocolate, and tossed it back to Poots.

“Suit yourself, but we’ll be having mimosa brunch early in the mornings, and dessert and cocktails late at night.”

Jack frowned. “Does Nate know about this?”

Poots nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! George said we can go nuts this weekend as a thank you for working, and Nate can’t say shit about it.”

“Yeah, well you’ll pay for it later,” Jack said.

“I will pay and I will play, okay? You too, Zimmboni. Try it,” Tater replied as he reached for another donut and plopped himself into an armchair while everyone laughed.

“What time does shit start again?” Guy asked.

“About an hour or so. People are still checking in and registering. We have an opening ceremony thing in one of the ballrooms -- but don’t forget we’re all gonna head downstairs before then to check out the vendor tables before everyone else starts coming in,” Snowy replied.

“Aw! Carrie already updated the family Instagram. Hahaha! They’re giving the dog a bath,” Thirdy called out as he looked at his phone.

Jack legitimately smiled this time as he watched Thirdy happily look at his screen. How wonderful it must be to know you have love in your life. To have a partnership with someone -- someone you can share thoughts and worries with. Someone you can support and be supported by in return. To know there are people you miss and people who missed you. 

How wonderful and rare… at least for him.

**+++**

“Welcome to the Hilton. Checking in?”

“Yeah, the last name is Oluransi. O-l-u-r-a-n-s-i.”

The clerk typed onto the keyboard. 

“Justin Oluransi, two rooms. Already paid for. Mr. Oluransi, if I could just see some ID and get a card for incidentals. You have two suites, checking out Sunday.”

“Sure, here you go.”

Lardo and Bitty raised their eyebrows and looked at each other as Lardo whispered, “Two _suites_. Hoity-toity!”

Bitty laughed and gently elbowed her. After they received their room keys, they followed the signage and headed to the festival registration, where they received their programs, schedules, and lanyards. 

“Check it out, as VIPs we get a trolley ride to the arena for ice skating with the team. VIPs _only_!” Holster said as he looked through the schedule.

“Dude,” Ransom said, eyes wide, “Do you think we’ll be able to play Crack the Whip with Tater?”

“Hell yes!” Holster said and high fived him.

“Please don’t get us kicked out of here,” Bitty called out as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Are you kidding? Everyone is going to love us. Relax, Bits,” Ransom replied as he and Holster simultaneously took out their shutter shades from their pockets and put them on. Lardo took their photo as they posed, showing off their VIP badges. 

“Okay, we unpack quickly then head to the ballroom for good seats for the opening ceremony,” Holster said.

Lardo and Bitty gave Holster a quick salute. “Sir, yes, sir!” They both called out. And as they waited for the elevator, Jack and Tater were coming down.

“Pressing the button a bunch of times isn’t going to make it come down faster,” Bitty said.

“That theory has never been proven,” Ransom said pressing the up button again.

Inside the descending elevator, Tater was going over his final game plan for the weekend, “And at dance, maybe I do kamarinskaya or chechotka? You think I should?”

Jack shook his head, “I don’t know what either of those are.”

Tater pressed the lobby button once more.

“You know, pressing it again isn’t going to make it go faster,” Jack said.

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“Finally,” Bitty said as the elevator doors parted and the four poured in. And as their doors closed, Tater and Jack’s elevator opened and they exited and walked toward the main festival floor.

**+**

Tater and Jack made their way to the main hall where the vendors were located. It was also where the autographs and photos would be taking place.

Tater perused the tables and laughed when he came upon someone who sold Falconers bobbleheads. 

“Hahaha, Zimmboni. Look!”

He held up a bobblehead of himself, shook it vigorously, then shook his own head alongside it.

“Double Tater! Twice bake!” he said as he roared with laughter.

Jack couldn’t help but laugh, as Tater quickly scooped up one of each player and purchased them. The vendor, equal parts thrilled and star struck, handed Tater his bags and thanked him repeatedly.

After a few minutes, Tater had accumulated quite a few items -- full bags in each hand. Jack purchased an 8 x 10 picture of his dad and uncle Mario together. He knew his mom would get a kick out of it. By then, the floor had officially opened to the festival attendees, many of whom waved and smiled at Jack and Tater.

“Uh,” Jack said as he looked down at his wristwatch, “we should be heading to the main ballroom. The opening ceremony is starting in a few minutes.”

“Okay, Zimmboni. I take quick break now to bathroom first. Don’t have too much fun before I come back.”

“I’ll try,” Jack said dryly.

Jack stood by a vendor’s table and waited for Tater to return, thankful that his standoffishness meant people rarely approached him. He stood awkwardly, and tried not to make eye contact with anyone, instead he scanned the crowd and looked at the other tables. He spotted someone who tried to quickly eat a rapidly melting soft serve cone, he saw a couple who wore matching jerseys taking a selfie, a busy popcorn vendor, and then that’s when he saw him. The most unexpected thing. There he was -- just a glimpse, really. 

A flash of blond hair, a compact figure doing a quick dance as the tiny woman next to him whispered into his ear. Jack stood on his tiptoes to try to get a better look at the bright face that smiled and held so much enthusiasm and joy. The stranger threw his head back with laughter, and Jack paused because he knew he’d never seen anyone so alive and happy before in his entire life. _Crisse!_

And in an instant, he was gone. That blond ray of sunshine was gone; swallowed by the crowd in a sea of Falconer yellow and blue.

“You okay, Zimmboni? You look like you saw ghost.”

“What?” he asked as his eyes desperately searched the crowd for any trace of that ray of light. 

“You know? Booo!” Tater replied, and handed Jack a bottle of water.

Jack sighed, feeling deflated and defeated. Surely he’d have to see him again, right?

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come and say hi on [Tumblr](http://wrathofthestag.tumblr.com).


	3. Fest Day 1:  Friday Late Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two ding dongs finally meet. Lots of "oh's" here people. Oh, Jack! Oh, Bitty! Oh, Lardo and Tater! Oh, DJ Davey!

The gang sat in the third row of the VIP section as people continued to come in and look for available seats for the opening ceremony.

“So the opening ceremony is really just them introducing all the players,” Holster said as he looked at the schedule. “Then all the panels and photo sessions start.”

“And the autographs!” Ransom said bouncing in his seat. “Dude, I’m gonna be going to Tater’s table so often, we’ll definitely be BFFs by the end of the weekend.”

“Bro!” Holster shot back and looked thoroughly insulted.

“Way harsh, Tai,” Lardo said as she rubbed Holster’s shoulder.

“Well I, for one, am looking forward to seeing that cutie Zimmermann,” Bitty said as he pointed at Jack’s photo in the program.

“That looks like a mugshot,” said Lardo.

“Oh, hush. I think he’s adorable and I am _so_ going to hit on him this weekend,” Bitty said as he stroked the photo with his index finger.

“You go with your bad self, Bits,” Ransom said. 

“I fully support your life decisions, you minx,” Lardo added with finger guns.

Just then, _Sirius_ by the Alan Parsons Project began to play over the speakers in the ballroom. The lights were dimmed, and the emcee for the weekend, local Providence radio DJ Davey Morris, walked onto the stage.

“Providence, Rhode Island!” DJ Davey called out.

Everyone began to clap and whistle.

“Are you ready?”

The clapping grew louder.

“Are you readyyyyy for FALCS FEST‽"

The room burst into cheers and whistles alongside the thunderous clapping.

“I’m your host for the weekend, Davey Morris. You might know me from 92 Pro-FM, playing all the hits, all the time. We’re proud to be co-sponsors of the inaugural Falcs Fest!”

Bitty laughed as he looked over and saw Ransom excitedly punch Holster in the shoulder, as Holster bobbed up and down.

“Keep the EMTs handy! Ransom might faint when he meets Tater!” Bitty shouted over to Lardo.

“First things first,” DJ Davey bellowed, “Give it up for Assistant GM, Georgiaaaaa Martinnnnn!” 

George walked out, waving at the crowd, wearing a Martin Falconers jersey with a 100 on the back and GM on the front. DJ Davey Morris handed George the mic.

“Hey, everyone! Welcome to our first ever Falcs Fest featuring your Providence Falconers!”

“God, I think she’s hot,” Lardo said.

“Hard same,” Holster chimed in.

“I just want to thank everyone for being here, for supporting our club, for believing in us. We just want to thank you all from the bottom of our hearts. We hope you’ll enjoy spending time with us this weekend. I know the guys are excited to meet you all! And you’re hearing it from me first. I know the start of the season is still a few months away, but THIS IS THE YEAR! THIS IS THE YEAR THE FALCONERS WILL BRING THE STANLEY CUP TO PROVIDENCE!”

The crowd roared and George threw her first in the air and smiled. She handed the mic back to DJ Davey who said, “And now, say hello to your Providence Falconers!”

The music grew louder, and one by one, the guys were introduced. Thirdy danced his way across the stage, Poots ran up and high fived Thirdy, Guy gave an enthusiastic thumbs up...

Jack waited behind the curtain for his name to be called. He had no idea what he was going to do, everyone else hammed it up as they crossed the stage. Snowy jumped on stage and did a quick split for crying out loud.

As Marty made his way out, Tater turned to Jack and said, “Just smile and wave, Zimmboni. Cute and cuddly. Cute and cuddly.” He then laughed and ran on stage.

“And last but not least, give it up for number one himself, Jack Zimmermann!”

“Here goes,” Jack mumbled to himself as he walked on stage and gave a meager wave, and promptly put his hands in his pockets.

Bitty jumped up and shouted, “There you go, number one!”

The bright lights on stage blinded Jack, as he nervously eyed the crowd that he couldn’t quite make out. He heard someone yell out, “There you go, number one!” so he waved in the direction of the voice.

DJ Davey said, “So now we invite everyone to the main area where you can purchase Falcs memorabilia and vintage hockey mementos, start lining up for autographs, the photo sessions are now open, and be sure to check your schedule for the daily events including panels and Q & A’s all weekend. See you tonight at the Falcs Fest Friday Dance!”

The guys walked off stage, and Bitty couldn’t stop smiling. Jack was clearly so shy and out of his comfort zone, Bitty couldn’t help but find him endearing and sweet. The fact that he was drop dead gorgeous didn’t hurt either -- but mainly Bitty was charmed by his awkwardness. Bitty thought there’s nothing hotter than a hot dork who had no clue they were hot.

“Guys, we’re going to line up for our photo sesh with Tater. He's going to be signing autographs right now but we want to be the first in line for photos,” Ransom said as he jumped up and took Holster by the wrist.

“I’m not a guy!” Lardo called out.

“Can you believe he bought four sessions, in addition to the free one we got?” Holster called out as they exited the row. “We’ll text you!”

“Well Bits, it looks like it’s just you and me. Wanna sip?” Lardo asked as she pulled a flask from her pocket.

“Larissa! I’m shocked,” Bitty said with faux outrage.

She shrugged and took a quick sip. 

“What’s in there anyway?” Bitty asked.

“Just some whiskey. Nothing complicated.”

Bitty took the flask, “Well I’m not going to get served this weekend, so I may as well take a swig.”

Lardo chuckled as Bitty took a sip and then coughed, “Lord, that burns.”

“All right, lightweight. Let’s go shopping for useless nonsense!” 

She put her arm around Bits and they walked toward the main hall.

They saw Holster and Ransom standing in line for their photo session and waved. Each of them smiled maniacally.

Lardo and Bitty perused the seller tables and examined various items and collectibles. 

“This Falcs patch is cool,” Lardo said as she looked for the price. “I should totally sew it onto my jean jacket.”

Bitty nodded in agreement, as Lardo spotted a Zimmermann shirsey. 

“Bits, you should buy this and have him to sign it. Like, _wear_ it and get him to sign it,” she said with an impish grin.

He nodded, took the shirt and said, “Fine, but I’m not wearing it while he signs. I’m trying to keep a sense of decorum here and not throw myself at him. At least not right away.”

Lardo laughed.

Bitty then noticed the row of bobbleheads on the table and giggled when he found a Zimmermann one. 

“Lardo, look!” Bitty held it up and pointed, “Lord! Look at this -- even his bobblehead doesn’t smile.

“Holy shit! That’s hilarious.”

“Sir? I’ll take this shirt and the bobblehead.”

“That’ll be $48.”

“Ouch,” Bitty said as he frowned and handed the man a fifty dollar bill. “Well there goes most of my fun money.”

“Don’t worry, Bits. I can spot you some cash if you need more. And now, let’s go find where Prince Frowning is and have him sign your stuff.”

Lardo took Bitty by the hand and led him across the hall to the overhead signs which read _Autograph Alley_.

“What if he’s not there yet?”

“Then we’ll have to find his glorious hockey ass later.”

Sure enough, when they arrived at the tables, they could see that Jack was seated. Tater sat at the table next to him. 

“Oh my god, there he is,” Bitty whispered, momentarily unable to move.

“Okay, snap out it. You two are never going to meet, fall in love and magically have babies if you don’t actually get in line.”

Lardo shoved Bitty into the line which had about 15 people ahead of them, and Bitty began to feel nervous as he got glimpses of Jack the closer and closer they were to the front. 

Jesus, he’s pretty.

Bitty hid behind the woman in front of him to study Jack further. He wore a Falconer blue henley, a thick silver watch on his left wrist, some dark wash jeans and the brightest yellow gym shoes Bitty had ever seen. 

Bitty’s eyes followed the contour of Jack’s arms as he signed each item -- his sleeves pushed up and exposed his strong forearms. He studied his cheekbones, sharp and so defined. How were they real? His thick dark lashes, fluttered with each autograph as he looked down toward the table.

Bitty could see Jack was in pure robot mode as he told each person, “Thank you for supporting the team.”

Someone who worked the festival and held a pad of sticky notes, approached them and asked, “Do you want your item personalized?”

“Uh, sure,” Bitty replied.

“Name?”

“Bitty. No! Wait… um, Eric. No! It’s Bitty.”

The person sighed and said, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Bitty. Let’s go with Bitty. Bitty, that’s me.”

“Whatever,” they said and handed Bitty a sticky note with his name on it. He held onto it tightly.

“Do _you_ want anything personalized?” 

Lardo responded, “Nah, I’m not getting an autograph -- I’m just here for the show.”

Jack hadn’t looked up once and appeared to be signing on autopilot.

Finally, Bitty was just one person away from Jack. What would he say? Would he play it cool or actually flirt with Jack Zimmermann? To say he would to Lardo was one thing, to actually do it was another entirely. Would he be all talk, or be bold for once? 

When it came to dating and men, Bitty had always been shy. He hadn’t even really kissed anyone yet. Wasn’t it time to go after a bit of happiness? Even if it was just for that moment? Even if that meant flirting for a little bit with the cutest boy he’d ever seen? Even if that boy was an NHL deity?

“Thank you for supporting the team,” he told the woman who was ahead of Bitty as she began to walk away.

Lardo whispered, “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

Bitty exhaled and approached, as he placed his sticky note on the table along with the bobblehead. Jack took the sticky note, quirked his eyebrows when he read the name on it.

“Make this out to…” Jack looked up and instantly froze. It was him! The ray of sunshine from earlier today. There he was.

Bitty and Jack locked eyes, each one remained silent. Each one felt as though this was the start of something -- though neither one had any clear idea of what that something was.

Lardo cleared her throat loudly behind them.

Getting his wits about him once again, Bitty smiled warmly.

“Bitty,” he said.

“Bitty,” Jack responded, eyes still fixed on Bitty’s.

“Uh-huh,” he said with a smile. “It’s a hockey nickname… obviously.”

“You… play hockey?” Jack said; he barely moved. That smile would be the death of him.

“Yep,” Bitty replied and popped the P. 

“So, Zimmermann, you gonna start signing?” Lardo asked with a smirk as she stood not far behind. “You got people waiting.”

Jack couldn’t tear himself away from Bitty’s eyes, then suddenly realized what he was doing -- or not doing. “Oh! Euh… yes.” 

He blinked rapidly several times, then took the bobblehead.

“I like your bobblehead,” Bitty said. “It’s very true to life.”

“Are you saying I have a big head?” Jack blurted with a frown.

Bitty grinned, “No, I’m saying it has your smile.”

Jack blushed and looked at the bobblehead which stared at him in return, silently mocking.

“Haha,” he managed to get out, then cleared his throat and uncapped his Sharpie.

He flipped the bobblehead over and wrote on the back of its head _To Bitty. Bonne chance, Jack Zimmermann._

“What’s it say?” Bitty asked and raised an eyebrow.

“To Bitty -- but I guess you got that part. Good luck, Jack Zimmermann. That’s... me.”

Earth, swallow him whole right now, please.

“Aw, that’s sweet. But what are you wishing me luck for, honey?”

 _Crisse_ , he honeyed him.

“I don’t… I’m not sure?” he responded, and Bitty could see the panic starting to form in his eyes.

“Everyone needs a little luck I guess, right? Here, let’s blow on it so the marker doesn’t smear.” And with that, Bitty wrapped his hands around Jack’s who still held the bobblehead. 

“See? Like this.” Bitty pursed his lips and then proceeded to blow gently on it. 

Jack swallowed dryly and then blew on the bobblehead as well. After a few more puffs, Bitty pulled his hands away slowly caressing Jack's fingers, and Jack wanted to melt into his cheap plastic chair.

“I think it’s good now,” Bitty said with a quick wink.

“Euh, sure. Okay.”

Bitty took the bobblehead from Jack’s hands then said, “I guess I’ll see you around.”

Jack sat silently and watched Bitty sassily walk away. Tater smiled as he had watched the entire thing unfold.

“Bye,” Jack said to no one in particular. 

Tater leaned over and said, “Oh, Zimmboni. You in big trouble now.”

Lardo smiled at Jack and Tater, then quickly followed Bitty who walked away, heart pounding. 

Bitty smiled and grabbed Lardo by the hand, the two running across the main hall, breaking down in a fit of laughter. 

“Dude. I think you broke him!” Lardo called out, as Bitty fanned himself and collapsed on a couch in the lobby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “[Sirius](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mp0ZISBYidI)” by the Alan Parsons Project. Oh boy, do I hate that song. But it seems appropriate for the event.
> 
> True story, [DJ Davey Morris](http://www.92profm.com/shows/davey-morris-2/) is a real person. Sorry DJ Morris for your appearance in my little fic over here. You just seem like someone who'd love to host a hockey con. Does this count as a RPF now?
> 
> P.S. [DisraeliGears](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DisraeliGears/pseuds/DisraeliGears) asked about Tater's biography. Clearly, it's named _Taters Gonna Tate: The Alexei Mashkov Story_


	4. Fest Day 1:  Friday Afternoon

“Dang, Bits. Who knew you had that in you?” Lardo said as she wagged her eyebrows.

Bitty put his hands on his cheeks, and rapidly shook his head, and he cannot believe he just did that. Did he just do that? Oh my lord, yes. Yes, he did. He leaned against the wall practically hyperventilated.

“I don’t know what got into me. Honestly, what the what?”

“I don’t know, Bits, but I like Assertive Bitty. That poor Canadian didn’t stand a chance.”

Bitty let a hysterical laugh out and exhaled, trying to calm his nerves.

**+**

“So Zimmboni, you need glass of water? Maybe poured over head instead of to drink.”

“Tater, shut up,” Jack said as the next person approached for their autograph.

Jack tried to calm himself down and just get through the next 30 minutes so he could finish this round of autographs and get his wits about him. What just happened? Was he being made fun of? Or was that… no? Was that flirting? That adorable ball of happiness was flirting? With _him_?

**+**

“You need a paper bag there, Bits. You got it?” Lardo asked as they stood outside and got some fresh air. Bitty was bent over, as Lardo rubbed his back.

“No, I got it. I’m okay now.”

“Good, you had me worried.”

“Is your friend all right?” they heard someone ask.

Lardo looked up and saw the figure of a man in front of him. The sun shone behind him so she couldn’t quite get a good look at him.

“Huh?” she said.

The man took a step closer, and Lardo could then see him completely. He had his hair pulled back in a man bun, was wearing holey jeans, a Falcs t-shirt which read _Staff_ over the chest, and had the most 70s mustache Lardo had ever seen in real life.

“Is your friend all right?” He asked as he pushed his aviator sunglasses on top of his head. “Should I call someone?”

“I’m fine,” Bitty replied as he stood up. “I just… oh my. I just shamelessly flirted with Jack Zimmermann and made an ass of myself!” he screamed.

The man laughed, “Brah! Did you really‽ That is fucking outstanding! Did he flirt back? Amazing!”

“Uh… who are you?” Lardo asked.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I’m B. Shitty Knight,” he said as he extended his hand toward Lardo. “But you can call me Shitty. Or, you can call me Jack Zimmermann’s best friend. That’ll work, too.”

“Are you kidding me?” Bitty groaned.

**+**

Shitty, Lardo, and Bitty were seated at the hotel’s sports bar finishing up a late lunch, as Shitty continued his campaign for Jack. He had invited Lardo and Bitty to eat as a thank you for making his day.

“He’s really a great fucking guy, you know. More shy than hockey robot, if you just give him a chance.”

“And you’ve been working with the Falconers for how long?” Lardo asked as she took a drink of her soda.

“Almost a year. Jack helped me get the interview for the job. Right now, I assist their lawyers with paperwork, contracts, and the more tedious stuff but it’s pretty much a done deal that once I pass the bar, I’ll be on staff as part of the Falcs official legal team. They’re a great organization to work for.”

“Do they all call you… Shitty?” Bitty asked and tried not to make a face.

“Ha! Yeah, unless we have company and have to behave. Then they just call me Knight. So, Lardo -- you said you’re an artist?”

Suddenly, Bitty felt very much like a third wheel.

Lardo smiled and said, “Yes, I am -- but let’s go back to talk about your friend Jack for minute here. So is he single, or?”

Shitty looked at Bitty and smiled, “Yes, and let me tell you Bitty my boy, are you ever his type.”

Bitty blushed. “I don’t know about that. He barely spoke to me.”

“That just his style! Meaning, he has none, really…” Shitty said woefully. “Show me the face again! Show me the face!”

Lardo opened her eyes wide and let her mouth fall slack.

Shitty threw his head back in laughter, “That’s really what he looked like when this little spitfire hit on him?”

Lardo laughed so hard, she snorted. “Yes, I shit you not. It was like his brain short-circuited.”

Shitty put his head on his hand and looked at Lardo as he said with smile that grew, “You’re fun. I like you.”

She raised an eyebrow in response, “And you’re not terrible, so there’s that.”

Shitty laughed, shook his head, and took a sip of his beer.

“I was going to have him sign some more stuff so I could see him again,” Bitty said. “But now I’m not so sure.”

“What? No way. Listen, if Jackabelle made that face…” he pointed at Lardo who in turn, quickly made the face, “...then let me tell you, you made an impression. If you like him, my legal advice to you, young squire, is to go back over there and flirt your little ass off. He could use someone sweet and sassy in his life.”

“He could?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Shitty said.

Bitty furrowed his eyebrows in determination and said, “All right then. I will!”

Just then Ransom and Holster appeared.

“And did you hear what he said when I said that his book changed my life?”

“Yeah, I was standing right there, bro,” Holster said.

Bitty waved at them and they ran over to the table.

“Yo! Tater was ‘swawesome! Like you would not believe!” Ransom said as he pulled up a chair.

“Holster, Ransom, this is Shitty. Shitty, Ransom and Holster.”

“So you met Tater?” Shitty asked. “He’s totally a character, huh?”

“He’s just ‘swawesome... Like next level ‘swawesome,” Ransom replied dreamily.

“Well he’ll be at the dance tonight, so I’ll be sure to personally bring him by,” Shitty said.

“Seriously?!” Ransom yelled, as Holster fist bumped the air. And just like that, Shitty, Ransom, and Holster immediately became friends.

After lunch, Shitty exchanged numbers with everyone and excused himself to get to work.

“Gotta earn my paycheck and help George with some stuff,” he said as he smiled at Lardo. “But I’ll see you all later.”

The two smiled briefly at one another, and then Lardo rolled her eyes.

“Go, you slacker,” she called out.

Shitty winked at Lardo then said, “Oh and Bitty, I’m serious. If you think Jack is cute, go for it. That gorgeous fucking beaut is worth it, man.”

Bitty blushed and said, “All right, Shitty. Get to work now, you.”

A Q & A panel with Thirdy and Marty was about to begin, and as the Samwell gang made their were way there, Bitty said, “I have to go to the bathroom. Save me a seat and I’ll find you.”

“I’ll text you where we’re sitting,” Lardo replied.

Bitty worked his way through the crowd and looked for the nearest restroom. When he found one, the line was out of the door. He groaned and looked around for signage for another bathroom.

Just then, a festival volunteer spotted Bitty and said, “You’re a VIP. Just go use the VIP restrooms. Shorter lines.”

“Oh, thanks! Where are those?”

“Off the main ballroom. Go through the blue and yellow curtains and down the corridor.”

“Thanks so much,” Bitty called out as he made his way there.

He found the corridor just as his phone buzzed.

 **Lardo** : _We’re on the left side of the room, in the fourth row._

He walked through the curtain and was typing out a response when _oof_! He ran into someone and landed right on his bum.

“Ow! I’m so sorry!” He called out and looked up to see Jack Zimmermann on the floor in front of him, horrified and embarrassed.

“It’s you,” Bitty said with a smile, and slowly got up from the floor.

“Euh, I… didn’t see you. I…”

“I’m not that small Mr. Zimmermann.”

“No. You’re averaged size.”

“ _Wellll_ …” Bitty said with a smirk.

Jack stared at him briefly, felt the tips of his ears burn then said, “Enjoy your afternoon!” and ran out into the main hall.

Bitty stood there, stupefied.

That didn’t go how he would have liked.

**+**

Jack could positively kick himself. Not only had he practically killed Bitty, he didn’t even apologize. He left the bathroom and was running to catch Marty and Thirdy’s panel, when he collided with Bitty.

He could have said sorry, he could have asked if he was okay, he could have said a million other things. Instead he just said he was averaged size. What the hell was that? Smooth, Zimmermann. Real smooth.

When Jack finally made it to the panel, he stood quietly in the back -- no one seemed to notice him there. And if they did, Jack thought, at least they just had the sense to ignore him.

Right as the panel began and DJ Davey introduced Marty and Thirdy, Bitty quietly walked in, slowly closing the door behind him.

“Did you show up late to the other panels, too?” Thirdy asked from the stage, pointing in Bitty’s direction. The crowd laughed.

“Uh… sorry?” Bitty said positively mortified.

“I see how it is. Bet you’re on time for Tater and Snowy’s panel,” Thirdy teased.

“Nah, I’m only going to yours. Only the best for me!” Bitty answered back.

Thirdy and Marty both laughed, and the crowd applauded as Bitty gave a quick bow.

“All right, sit down, you schmoozer!” Thirdy said as he waved at Bitty once, who in turn ran to his friends.

Jack laughed and then wondered how Bitty could do that? How could someone be so at ease with crowds, with people. He stared at the back Bitty’s head, how his hair gleamed in the room’s spotlights. He stared at the adorable cowlick on the back of his head. Bitty’s friends leaned in to say something to him, and Bitty shook with laughter.

Jack was enchanted.

At one point, Bitty turned around to scan the room. He bit his lip as he appeared to be searching for someone or something. Jack watched him and then realized he was being creepy, so he tried to focus on the panel instead. He stayed for almost the entire panel, and stole occasional glimpses of Bitty, and then snuck out the back when it was almost over.

**+**

Jack walked into the Falcs lounge and plopped himself onto a large soft armchair. A group of the guys were cutting into a large chocolate cake.

“Hey, Jack. You want some cake?” Poots asked, frosting already smeared on his upper lip.

“You all are not holding back with this eating thing are you?” Jack said as he lifted his head up from the chair.

“Are you kidding? Management might come to their senses and bring Nate in here to monitor us,” Poots replied as he passed the slices around on paper plates.

“Where did you even get an entire sheet cake from? You know what, never mind. I don’t want to know,” Jack sighed.

Just then Tater walked in with Guy.

“There he is! You okay now, Zimmboni? You look like you’re going to throw up at autographs table.”

Guy laughed, “Why? What happened.”

“Yeah, I’m fine, Tater. Please drop it.”

“Okay, Puke Skywalker. If you saying so.”

“Now I’m intrigued,” Guy said as he took a slice of cake from the table. “Spill the beans.”

“Zimmboni is signing autographs and then tiny adorable man comes and is winking at Zimmboni and blowing on Zimmboni’s hands…”

Tater blew out three puffs of air.

“...And Zimmboni look like he score five hatties.”

The guys all laughed, and Jack could feel his face burn.

“All right, go ahead and laugh. I’m leaving,” Jack said getting up.

“We’re just kidding Jack. Come on, stay. Have some cake,” Poots said.

He looked at his watch, “No, I have to go back down for another autograph session anyway.”

Jack left the lounge and walked toward the elevator, hoping that maybe he’d see Bitty again and this time not be such a complete bonehead about it.

**+**

Bitty perused the vendor tables looking at the various t-shirts, pucks, and even plushies that were for sale. Lardo, Holster and Ransom went for some coffee and Bitty took a pass and chose instead to do a little more shopping.

When he reached an older woman’s table (she reminded him of his Moomaw and that made him smile) he stopped to look at her items.

“Hello, dear,” she said.

“Hello, ma’am. Are you having a good day?” Bitty asked.

“Yes, this is such a nice crowd -- and I do love my Falconers!”

Bitty smiled and then noticed the stack of Falcs oven mitts.

“These are amazing!” he said as he held up two of them.

“Made them myself. I also have other teams, you can see them all on my Etsy page,” she said and handed Bitty a business card.

Bitty chuckled, “Well I’ll definitely have to check that out, now won’t I?”

Bitty bought two of the oven mitts, and walked around some more. When he walked by Autograph Alley he noticed that Jack was at one of the tables again. Tater sat adjacent to him, and chatted it up with the people who were at his table. Bitty hadn’t made up his mind yet if he was going to try to talk to him again, but as he saw him there -- so adorable and uncomfortable -- it made Bitty’s heart clench. _That boy_ , Bitty thought.

He got in Jack’s line and patiently waited.

“Thank you for supporting the team,” he heard Jack say.

As he got closer, Jack happened to look up and the two of them caught one another’s gaze. Bitty waved shyly, which caused Jack to blush and give a quick wave of his own. Tater paused and observed them both, amusement clearly settled onto his face.

It was finally Bitty’s turn and he approached the table with a smile.

“Bitty, you’re here,” Jack said.

“And you’re there,” Bitty replied brightly.

Tater chuckled.

“Euh… welcome back.”

“Yes, it’s been a while. What, like three hours?”

“So... are you having fun?

“I have to tell you, yes. Yes, I am. But my friends are going bananas because they love Tater and finally got to meet him,” Bitty said in Tater’s direction.

“They have good taste,” Tater replied.

“So, are you attending all weekend?” Jack asked awkwardly.

“Sure am! Staying here at the hotel and everything. I’m a vee eye peeeee,” Bitty said twirling his VIP badge.

“Do you… do you have something for me to sign?”

“Oh goodness me. Yes, I almost forgot. Look at me, holding up the line. Here,” he said and placed the oven mitts on the table.

Jack looked at them and gave a quick chuckle. Oven mitts? That was unexpected. He’d signed pucks, photos, jerseys, was even offered a boob -- which he politely declined -- but oven mitts? Bitty was full of surprises.

“What? What is it?” Bitty asked.

“They’re oven mitts.”

“Yes, they are. Look at that!”

Jack smiled.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“Falconers’ oven mitts, though? Of all the things you could buy? Are they for your grandmother?” Jack said, trying to hide the smirk which grew on his face.

“Jack Middle Name Zimmermann, don’t you dare chirp my convention purchases! I’ll have you know these are amazing.”

He raised his head slightly, and looked at Bitty through lowered lashes.

“Laurent,” he said quietly.

“Pardon?”

“My middle name. It’s Laurent.” He blushed took one of the mitts and signed it. Then took the other one.

Tater smiled broadly and tilted his head toward Jack to encourage Bitty.

“Well, Jack Laurent Zimmermann, too bad you won’t be able to see those oven mitts in action and chirp me in the own kitchen. It’s a shame, too, because I’m _really_ good with my hands.”

Jack dropped his Sharpie, eyes wide, as Bitty casually leaned over to the take the mitts from the table.

He winked at Tater, and then walked away.

Tater laughed so hard, he could barely contain himself when he said, “Hello? Operator? I need the nine eleven! I witnessed murderrrrrrr…”

It suddenly occurred to Jack that he had to find George. He had to find her _immediately_.

Jack ran from meeting room to meeting room. He jumped out of the path of gawking fans, stopped to shake hands with a small grandmother, vaulted over someone who stopped to tie his shoelaces. He finally made his way to the lounge where he burst in.

“Have you seen George?” Jack asked, as he huffed and puffed.

Snowy was about to take a bite of a huge churro, when he said, “She was just here about five minutes ago. Said she was going to the main ballroom to look for that DJ guy.”

Jack hightailed it out of there as he heard Snowy call out, “Everything okay?”

When Jack finally made it to the ballroom, he found George and DJ Davey who discussed the schedule for the evening’s party.

“George!” Jack called as he stopped in the middle of the empty ballroom, clutching at his chest.

“Jesus, Jack. What’s going on?” she said as she ran toward him.

“George…” he huffed, “Is there… are there…”

“God, do you need some water?”

He shook his head and swallowed, “Are there still any rooms left, because I changed my mind. I want to stay here this weekend. Can I?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, we're barely into Friday afternoon of the weekend and already have four chapters? We might be in for the long haul, people. Also, Puke Skywalker is still making me laugh. I'm a big dork.
> 
> Also, also, for [DisraeliGears](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DisraeliGears/pseuds/DisraeliGears) , here's Tater's box of Wheaties:  
> 
> 
> Come and say hullooo on [Tumblr](http://wrathofthestag.tumblr.com/).


	5. Fest Day 1:  Friday Late Afternoon

The entire convention closed down for a few hours to afford hotel staff prep time for the evening’s dance party, as the Samwell gang convened on the hotel’s patio for early evening refreshments.

“Dude, this party is going to be killer!” Ransom said as he and Holster gave each other high fives. They wore their shutter shades.

Holster took a drink of his beer and said, “‘Cheyeah it is. We’re going to party like it’s 1999.”

“You two are out of control. Can you please not freak out the nice Russian giant?” Lardo asked.

“He loves us, no worries there,” Ransom replied confidently.

“You're ridiculous, but I love you both anyway,” Bitty said as he dug into the basket of popcorn on the table.

“Look who's talking,” Holster replied with a large grin.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bitty laughed, and then frowned. “I got a kernel stuck in my tooth. I hate when that happens.”

He poked at his molar with his tongue, and then gave up. 

“I have to go to the room, and deal with this.”

“Seriously, Bits?” Ransom asked. “That seems a bit extreme.”

“I take my dental health very seriously, thank you very much.”

“Suit yourself, but there’s no guarantees these loaded nachos will still be here when you get back,” said Lardo.

Bitty got up, “That’s the chance I’ll take for good dental hygiene. Be right back.”

He skipped through the lobby and made it to the elevator, he hummed to himself as he thought of the day’s events. Then he thought of Jack Zimmermann’s blue eyes. Jack Zimmermann’s big hands. Jack Zimmermann’s big… everything. He was definitely a tall drink of water, and Bitty was feeling mighty thirsty.

In his bathroom, Bitty looked through his travel pouch and found his toothpaste, toothbrush, mouth wash, face soap, face cream, pore minimizer, face scrub, but damn it. No dental floss.

“Damn it, no dental floss,” he said. 

He vigorously brushed his teeth and the piece of kernel finally popped out. He stopped at the gift shop in the lobby to buy some floss and was appalled at the price. 

“$5 for a roll of dental floss? Well that’s just highway robbery!”

Bitty sighed and looked out the gift shop window and remembered there was Super Target just down the street. Well, he wasn’t about to give this gift shop his money and be an accomplice to grand larceny. No ma’am. So he sent Lardo a text.

 **Bitty** : _I’m heading to the Target across the street for some floss. It’s too damn expensive in the gift shop. Need anything? Be back super fast!_

 **Lardo** : _Are you for real? You’d rather leave the hotel to buy some floss than just pay whatever? I’ll buy you your floss, Bitty._

 **Bitty** : _Nope. It’s the principle of the matter. BRB <333_

Bitty walked down to Super Target, and picked up a shopping basket as soon as he entered. He walked through the store and swung his basket, then grabbed a giant bag of Smart Pop popcorn that was on sale. Oh, Twizzlers! He picked those up, too. He then headed to Health and Beauty for some floss (Only $3.49!). 

He was about to go to the registers when he decided to check out the music department. Just a quick peek!

Bitty strolled through the aisles on the way there, stopped to smell the candles, he playfully punched the throw pillows, he tried on a couple of pair of sunglasses in Accessories, and then headed toward Music when he saw him. 

There he was. Jack Zimmermann standing in the middle of Super Target, looking at underwear. 

Bitty couldn’t help but laugh. Was this really happening? This was the sort of thing he only saw in rom-coms.

“Underwear shopping, are you?”

Jack jumped and dropped the package of underwear. Bitty ducked down and picked it up. 

“Here you go.”

“Oh, hi,” Jack said.

“What are you doing here?” Bitty asked.

“I… uh… I decided to stay at the hotel instead of going home but then realized I didn’t have any clothes. So...” Jack shrugged.

“Well, clean underwear is important,” Bitty said. “You can only turn them inside out so many times.” 

He quickly looked in Jack’s basket. There were socks, a plain grey t-shirt and a plain black one, a toothbrush, hairbrush, and some deodorant.

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to just go home and get your stuff?” Bitty asked.

“I didn’t want to be away too long.”

Bitty smiled then said, “Well, I don’t wanna keep you. I’ll see you back at the convention, Jack Laurent.”

“Or…”

“Yes?”

“Or you can keep me... company. I don’t mind,” he said.

Bitty smiled and nodded. “Sure. Okay.”

The two strolled through the aisles of Super Target, as Bitty excitedly chatted about music and a CD he wanted to buy. Jack admitted he didn’t know any of the singers Bitty mentioned.

“I know them, though,” Jack said as he held up Led Zeppelin’s Greatest Hits CD.

“Zeppelin? Okay, paw paw,” Bitty said and sweetly teased. “Well at least you know Beyoncé, right?”

Jack stayed silent. 

“Well at least you know Beyoncé, RIGHT?” Bitty asked again, hand on his hip.

“Is that the All the Single Women woman?” Jack asked nervously.

“Lord! I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that, Zimmermann,” Bitty laughed.

“Haha.” 

As they continued through the store, Jack reached over and took Bitty’s shopping basket. He poured Bitty’s things into his basket.

“Here, it’s easier with just one basket,” said Jack as he put the empty basket on the floor.

Bitty smiled.

They perused the video game selections, the LEGOs, the stationery, and stopped at the sporting goods section where Bitty grabbed a Falconers snapback. 

“I don’t own one. Should I get it? It’s probably cheaper here than at the convention.”

“Sure. And thank you for supporting the team.”

“Ha!” Bitty said. “Maybe I’ll have my favorite Falconer sign it.”

Jack blushed, then Bitty added, “Yep. That Thirdy. He sure is my favorite. I even told him so earlier today.”

Jack laughed. “Well, Thirdy _is_ everyone’s favorite -- just don’t tell Tater.”

Bitty smirked and enjoyed Jack’s quiet humor. He found it positively charming. 

They kept walking and ended up in the housewares department where Bitty spotted a red KitchenAid stand-up mixer. 

“Hello, lover,” he said as he dreamily stroked the box.

“Do you bake?” Jack asked.

“Do I bake? Hell yes, I bake. I will bake any and everyone under the table. I’ve been baking since I was knee high to a grasshopper.”

“So that’s a yes, then?” Jack asked.

“You’re kind of sassy. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“Actually, no.”

“Well they should, Sass L. Sassermann.”

Jack smiled. “What do you bake?”

“Mmm… everything, cookies, muffins, cakes, strudels, bread, but pie is my favorite. I guess you can say it’s what I’m known for. Blue ribbon winner right here. Peach, cherry, blueberry, rhubarb, lemon meringue -- I make it all.”

“Sounds good,” Jack said as he watched Bitty examine some rolling pins. He actually smelled one and then put it back.

“They are good. I make damn good pies,” Bitty said with an assertive nod. “If I could make you one right now, I bet you’d say it was the best pie you’ve ever had.”

“I really don’t eat sweets. I try to follow my diet plan.”

“Not even on a cheat day?” 

Jack shook his head.

“Jack -- that just breaks my heart.”

“Come on, you make me sound like some sad sack.”

“I have it on good authority that your fellow teammates have a sweet tooth. They let themselves enjoy a treat.”

“Oh?”

“I saw Poots scarf down a churro walking through the main hall, and then I saw Guy and Reds sitting at their autograph session shoveling in cupcakes like they were going out of style.”

Jack laughed. “Yeah… we all kind of have permission to eat whatever we want this weekend. I guess some of the guys are really taking that to heart.”

“And you haven’t had a single sweet?”

Jack shook his head again.

Bitty smiled and said, “Should we go pay so we can get back?”

“Okay.”

They approached a register and Jack put the basket with both of their things on the conveyor belt, and began taking everything out.

“What are you doing?” Bitty asked.

“I’d like to pay for your things, if that’s all right?”

“No. You don’t have to, really!” Bitty said sounding somewhat alarmed.

“Why not?”

“Because, I’d feel weird you paying for my dental floss. I'm not trying to glom off you or anything...”

“I know. I know you're not. I want to. Will you let me?” Jack asked.

He sounded so sincere, Bitty couldn’t say no. 

“Okay, fine.”

“Good,” Jack said as he smiled and placed the rest of the items on the belt. The cashier smiled at them both, and popped her gum as she rung up their purchase.

“But at least let me buy you some coffee.”

“Sure.”

After they paid, Bitty led Jack to the Starbucks inside the store. 

“Sit here, I’ll be right back.”

Jack put their shopping bags down, and watched as Bitty went to place the order. He moved animatedly and pointed to something in the glass case. He waved at Jack and stood by the pick-up counter, and bounced up and down on his heels and he waited.

The barista then called his name, and Bitty walked toward Jack with two cups and a bag of something.

“You seem like a black coffee kind of guy. Le sigh.”

“Yeah, sorry to burst your bubble. Even more shattered illusions about Jack Zimmermann.”

“Honey, you have yet to shatter anything.”

Jack smiled, “What did you get?”

Bitty took a long sip and then sighed contentedly, “A caramel macchiato with whipped cream. Here, try some.”

“No thank you, I’m good.”

“Not even a little? I don’t have cooties.”

“No thanks.”

“Okay, fine. So, now that we have coffee, tell me your life story, Jack Zimmermann.”

Jack raised his eyebrows, and played with his coffee cup sleeve.

“There’s not much to tell. I play hockey and that’s about it.”

“Nuh-uh. You can’t give me the ‘hockey robot’ version. There’s more to you than just hockey, mister. I can tell.”

Jack was taken aback. He could count on one hand the number of people who saw him as more than just Hockey; and most of those people he was related to. Here was this man, pretty much a perfect stranger, who already saw more to him than people he spoke with every day.

“Well, I started to skate almost the same time I started to walk. And it was, you know, just always expected of me, because of… because of my dad. I love it, and I’m good at it -- I think, or rather, I hope -- and I just want to play, and help the guys, and make my parents proud. You know?”

“But?”

“But… sometimes I wish I could do more. Do other things. Just sometimes.”

Bitty smiled and wanted to reach out and touch Jack’s hand. It was different when he was flirting and acting silly, but here with just the two of them, it felt different. It was something else. He sat on his hands to squelch the impulse.

Jack cleared his throat and continued, “And what do you do, Bitty? You play hockey, you bake, you collect oven mitts…”

Bitty laughed. 

“Well I go to Samwell, just outside of Boston.”

“I know Samwell! My mom went there. _I_ almost went to school there.”

“You’re kidding!”

“No, it’s true. I was this close to being Samwell Class of 2015," Jack said holding up his thumb and index finger close together. "Instead, I went to Brown for a couple of years, played on the team, and then got signed with the Falconers.”

“Do you wish you could have finished school?” Bitty asked.

“I do. I think about it now and then. Sometimes, I really miss it. I was a history major, you know.”

“I can see that,” Bitty said.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s your major?”

“American Studies with a concentration in food culture. Basically, I can bullshit my way through a lot of stuff by cooking.”

“And you enjoy being on the hockey team?”

“I do-- I’m nowhere near as good as you, lord no. But I’m all right. I actually started out figure skating. Did it till 2010. I can dazzle people with my spinoramas, that’s totally thanks to figure skating.”

“Haha. Nice.”

“It took me some time to get where I’m at and decide what I wanted to do, but I’m happy. That’s all I can hope for, right?”

Jack nodded. “Yes,” he said softly.

“And speaking of happy, I want you to try something.”

“Oh no, should I be worried?” Jack laughed.

Bitty opened the Starbucks bag and pulled out a pink cake pop.

“I figured I’d start small here. While normally, I’d prefer to pop your sweet tooth cherry with my cherry pie…”

Jack groaned and then laughed, “That was bad!”

“Yeah, that was! _So_ bad!” Bitty blushed and laughed. “As I was saying, I’d prefer to have you eat my pie…”

Jack laughed harder.

“BUT,” Bitty continued in between peals of laughter, “a cake pop will be a nice small intro into the sinful, lustful world of baked goods.”

“I have eaten sweets before, you know. I just… I don’t know. I am very strict about my eating.”

“Shh! Just humor me here. Come on, take a bite. Come on…” 

Bitty held out the cake pop and Jack looked at Bitty’s pleading face and crumbled. How could he say no to those big brown eyes? He leaned in and took a bite, his eyes automatically closing as he did.

Bitty looked on, fascinated, as Jack chewed and then involuntarily let out a loud moan.

“ _Crisse_!” He said as he chewed and then swallowed.

Bitty watched with eyes wide. Jack then came back to his senses, opened his eyes and blushed profusely.

“Oh my god,” he said as he covered his mouth. “I’m sorry -- I don’t know where that came from.”

Bitty cleared his throat and was about to say something when his phone beeped. And then beeped again.

“Aren’t you going to get that?” Jack asked, as Bitty still held the bitten cake pop in his hand.

Bitty snapped back from his trance and said, “Excuse me.” He looked at his phone, and rolled his eyes.

“It’s Lardo. She’s worried and wondered if I got lost or kidnapped.”

His phone beeped again and Bitty laughed.

“Now it’s my friend Ransom wondering if they should get Tater and form a search party.”

Jack took a sip of his coffee, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then looked at his watch. “We should be getting back. George wants to have a pre-party meeting with everyone to go over etiquette and whatnot.”

“Etiquette and whatnot,” Bitty said with a smirk. “Let’s go. Do you, uh...want the rest of this?” Bitty asked as he held out the cake pop.

“No thank you,” Jack said quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw, our baby is opening up! And dang Jack, try a cookie every now and then. Next up, the big dance!
> 
>  


	6. Fest Day 1:  Friday Evening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know I promised the party in this chapter -- but this is more like a bit of pre-party action before all the party nonsense begins. That'll all come in the next chapter, as well as some major pining. And don't forget, this is still only Friday. We still have Saturday and Sunday. Woo.
> 
> Thanks for all your sweet comments and for sticking around.

Bitty sat on his bed remembering…

_“Thanks again for my stuff, Jack.”_

_“You’re welcome. So, uh… are you going to the meet and greet thing?”_

_“Yeah, it seems I have some meetin’ and greetin’ in my future.”_

_The two stood in the lobby, and smiled at one another._

_“Oh, here are you things,” Jack said as he handed Bitty a bag._

_“Well…” Bitty waited hoping Jack might say or do something._

_He didn’t so Bitty continued, “See ya, Jack.”_

_“Bye, Bitty.”_

 

He heard the shower turn off and Lardo walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped her, hair still dripping wet.

“So, Target, huh? Does that count as a first date?”

“Date? We just bumped into each other there -- that’s all.”

Lardo pulled out some underwear from a drawer.

“I don’t know, Bits. Tar-zhay, underwear shopping, coffee? That’s like been-in-a-relationship-for-a-year kind of shit,” she said with a smile.

“Speaking of dates, Ms. Duan, what’s going on with you and Mr. Mustache?” Bitty asked with eyebrow quirked. “Don’t think I didn’t see that sitch going on.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

“Pssh! ‘And you’ve been working for the Falconers for how long?’” Bitty said as he batted his eyelashes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said again with a smile.

“I demand deets, missy!” Bitty said and smacked the mattress.

Lardo laughed and threw her towel at Bitty’s head. 

“Eeee! Naked lady! Help!” Bitty yelled, cackled and covered his face with his hands as Lardo walked back to the bathroom.

**+**

“I go from having room alone to having roommate. Not fair,” Tater said as Jack put his toiletries in the bathroom. "Now I have to put clothes away instead of having them nice and spread out on second bed.”

“Sorry Tater, but thanks for putting me up this weekend,” Jack said as he hung his two t-shirts in the closet.

“Why you wait so long to ask for room, Zimmboni?” Tater said as he plopped himself onto his bed.

Jack remained silent, not quite knowing what to say next.

“It’s okay, Zimmboni. I know what’s what. So, what are you wearing tonight? Be sure to look extra sexy for tiny man.”

“Tater… don’t make me regret bunking with you.”

“What? It’s just like on roadies. Me and you, Zimmboni. Only instead of hockey, we have food, music, and someone who make you smile. Big smile on Zimmboni. It’s nice to see. See? So I don’t have to be big spoon at night anymore.”

Jack laughed and pulled out the Zimmermann Habs jersey he bought at the convention, then held it up to himself as he looked in the mirror.

“Is that outfit for tonight?” Tater frowned.

“What’s wrong with this? It’s vintage,” Jack said.

“Is old!”

Tater got up from the bed and shook his head. He went to the dresser and pulled out a white v-neck t-shirt. 

“You wearing this. Look good for once instead of like you’re to rob Burger King,” he said and pressed the t-shirt against Jack’s chest. 

Jack frowned as he unfolded the t-shirt and examined it. It looked too small for Tater. How did he even shove himself into it?

“It’s tight, the v-neck is sexy-- show off pecs and arms. Tiny man will love it... even with yellow trainers,” Tater said as he gave Jack side eye and entered the bathroom.

**+++**

From 8:00 to 9:00, the VIPs were given a special Meet and Greet with the Falconers before the party, at which they could mingle, chat freely with anyone, and have a cocktail and some food. 

The Samwell gang descended upon the ballroom like slow motion astronauts walking toward their ship. Bitty and Lardo were front and center, and Ransom and Holster flanked them both. Each one dressed to party and Meet and Greet like a motherfucker.

They called dibs on a tall cocktail table, as Ransom and Holster went to the bar to get a drink. 

“Bits, go get us a couple club sodas.”

“Club soda? What are we? 70‽” Bitty asked.

“No, I’m making us some whiskey and sodas, you goober. Go.”

Lardo watched as the Falconers walked into the ballroom, each one laughing and friendly toward the fans that approached them. A group of them immediately walked to the hors d'oeuvres table.

Then she saw Zimmermann walk in, wearing a tight white t-shirt. His hair appeared to be gelled back or something, too. Jeez Louise! He looked good. She examined him as he immediately scanned the room, biting his lower lip, seeking and searching. He awkwardly shoved his hands into his pockets. 

She grinned when she saw his expression as he spotted Bitty at the bar. Jack smiled and started to walk toward Bitty, then stopped halfway, turned around and quickly walked to the cocktail table where Tater and Thirdy were standing.

“Dude, that is so weak sauce. Come on!”

“Who are you talking to?”

She turned around and saw Shitty next to her.

“Myself,” she replied.

“Do that often?”

“Yeah. It’s the only time I can have an intelligent conversation.”

Shitty laughed.

“So, you need to go talk to your boy over there. Clearly, he digs Bitty and was about to walk up to him, but his ass chickened out at the last minute.”

“Ha! Classic Zimms.”

“Hi, Shitty. What are you two talking about?” Bitty asked as he placed both sodas on the table. “Here’s your club soda, Miss Larissa.”

“Heyo, Bitty. Club soda?” Shitty asked with a grin.

“You shuddap your face,” she said as she took out her flask from her purse and poured some whiskey into both glasses. She then stirred each drink and raised her glass to Bitty. 

“Cheers!”

Bitty smiled and took a sip.

“I like your style, kid,” Shitty said with heart eyes.

She elbowed Shitty and then pointed at Bits, “So Bitty, I was just telling Shitty here about his boy’s terrible game.”

“What? No, it’s not like that. He’s sweet--- but I think he just wants to be friends. And I mean, if that’s what he wants, I’m okay with that.” Bitty said quickly.

“Are you insane? You two practically proposed to each other at Target today. Where are you getting this friend nonsense from?” Lardo said.

“Target? You went to Target?” Shitty asked with clear confusion on his face.

Bitty nodded, “He needed underwear.” 

Lardo jumped in, “But that’s not the point.”

“He needed underwear?” Shitty repeated.

“What are you? A parrot?” Lardo said. “Zimmermann and Bitty bumped into each other at Target, they went shopping together, had coffee, and apparently an orgasmic cake pop. But now, I just saw your boy walk in, try to say hi to Bitty, then pull a 180 and run away.”

“He ran away?” Bitty asked quietly.

“The point is,” Lardo continued, “it looks like he does like you. He’s just shy as hell and kind of a fucking ding dong.”

“Well, if he does like me then why have _I_ been the one making all the moves?”

“Like Lardo said, he’s fucking shy,” Shitty replied.

“So am I!” Bitty cried.

Lardo snorted.

“Well I _am_ ,” Bitty said with a huff. “Look, if he does like me or whatever he should show me. I mean, I like him and think he’s really sweet, but he also needs to make an effort. I’m not making another move. I’ve been forward enough today as it is. My mama would be mortified.”

Shitty sighed, and looked at Jack who appeared to be holding the world’s most fascinating glass of water judging by the way he stared down at it.

Just then, they heard a booming guffaw coming from the other side of the room near the bar. Ransom and Holster stood with Tater and Poots; each one a drink in their hand. Tater slapped Ransom’s back as he shook with laughter, while Holster took a picture of them, as he flashed a thumbs up.

“Well, at least someone is making a love connection,” Lardo said.

Shitty frowned. What was Jack worried about? Bitty had obviously flirted enough to show he was interested in Jack. He seemed to be a sweet guy, and the fact that Jack had even spent any time with Bitty was evidence enough for Shitty that Jack liked him as well. So what gives?

“I’ll be back,” Shitty said.

Shitty walked through the crowd, and high fived various Falconers as he did. He then saddled up next to Jack who stood alone at the table.

“Jacko.”

“Shits.”

“‘Bout time I see you today.”

“Yeah.” 

“What’s new?”

“Not much…”

“Not much, you say?”

“Not much,” Jack replied.

“Not even that adorable fucking ray of blond sunshine that you’ve been looking at, all cow-eyed since you walked in?”

“What?”

“Oh, I know all about your little romance you got going on.”

“There’s… there’s no romance, Shitty.”

“Well that’s a shame because clearly you’re smitten as hell, and I never see you get like this, Jack. Fucking ever.”

Jack frowned and took a drink of his water.

“Also, you are clearly dressed to impress here -- nice moobs, babe -- and I know it’s not for my benefit.”

Shitty leaned in closer and looked at Jack’s hair.

“Is that? Is that gel in your hair?”

“Tater did it,” Jack said quickly.

“Can I touch it?”

Jack pulled away from Shitty. “No, Shitty. Cut it out.”

Shitty reached a hand toward Jack’s head, “But it looks so _crunchy_!”

“ _Tabarnak_! Stop, Shitty.”

“Fine. I’ll leave your hair alone on the condition that you tell me what’s going on with you and Bitty?”

“How do you know Bitty, anyway?” Jack said as he glanced toward his table. Bitty talked with Lardo and ignored Jack.

“I met him outside the hotel. I really like his friend, Lardo. I’m kinda hoping for a love connection there.”

“Nothing…”

“What?”

“Nothing is going on,” Jack replied quietly.

“And that seems to be the problem,” Shitty said and threw his hands up. “Help me understand here, Jacky boy. If you like him and he likes you, then why the hell aren’t you over there talking to him and liking each other simultaneously?”

Jack watched Bitty for a moment. 

“My life… is complicated. And he doesn’t need that, Shits. With roadies, the press, my past... I’m always working -- and you know how I get when things get intense on the ice. He deserves more than that. You met him! He’s great, and I’m… well.”

Shitty shook his head. “Okay, two things. Don’t you think Bitty should be able to decide what he wants? And, you are not some beautiful disaster. You’re fucking amazing and you deserve to be happy, you jackass.”

Jack sighed.

“What the fuck, Jack. Don’t you want to be happy? Don’t you want to let yourself be happy?”

Bitty looked up at Jack and gave him the briefest of smiles. Jack smiled in return. He knew the answer to that, but was he brave enough to do something about it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, yes. Tater totally styled Jack's hair. I'm sure he also put cologne on him as well. If they had been the same shoe size, Tater would have let him borrow some shoes too. If only Tater knew that Jack was going to be wearing the same pair of jeans for three days. I'm sure he'd be mortified.
> 
> And Bitty? Well, he just wants to feel appreciated and wants to be chased a little bit. Come on, Jacques. Step it up some more, mister.


	7. Fest Day 1:  Friday Late Evening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, folks, I hope you like the newest chapter. This slow burn is killlllling me. If it were any other of my fics, they’d already be boinking like there’s no tomorrow. Alas, this is not any of my other fics.
> 
> Also, I will be going out of the country for ten days for work -- but I should still be able to update, but it might not be as regularly as normal. STILL! I will be writing it by hand, every chance I get so even if I can’t update as frequently as I would like, when I come back home I should have a shit ton ready to post.

The evening’s shindig progressed -- and it really was as corny as a dance at a convention would be. Still, everyone was in great spirits taking the evening at face value and having unabashed fun.

DJ Johnson spun an odd assortment of tunes, many of which seemed to be apropos to Jack and Bitty’s situation: songs about pining, longing, and kissing-- all of which caused Jack to throw wistful glances in Bitty’s direction. Bitty, however, kept to his word and stayed away from Jack, who grew more frustrated and confused as the evening progressed.

“Are you enjoying the convention, Jack?” George asked as she approached his table.

“It’s not terrible,” he replied as he looked at Bitty.

George turned in the direction of Jack’s gaze and saw Bitty quickly turn away as they caught one another’s eye.

“I see,” she said with a smirk. “So… are you going to dance at all tonight, Jack?”

Jack shrugged.

“Because I, for one, would love to see you dance. I’d love to see you get out there, give it shot on the dance floor and you know, dance and be happy.”

“Maybe,” he mumbled, as he tried to run his hands through his hair, only to have it met by the crunchiness of Tater’s hair gel job.

“Nice hair, Jack,” George said and sweetly teased him.

“Tater decided to style me today. I guess I was his damn pet project.”

George laughed. “You know Tater is all about appearances. I’m surprised he didn’t put one of his dress shirts on you.”

Jack smiled and then looked around the room and examined what everyone else was doing. Shitty was off to one corner chatting it up with Lardo, most of the guys were at the bar, and Bitty and two of his friends walked to the center of the dance floor as DJ Johnson gave them a thumbs up.

A new song began and Jack realized that Bitty and his friends were going to dance. The three then performed to an obviously well rehearsed and memorized choreographed number.

“Who is that?” George asked as she clapped along.

“Uh… they’re students from Samwell University. Members of their hockey team.”

“That little blond one is a cutie, isn’t he? Look at him go!” She said and then yelled out an encouraging, “Wooo!”

Soon the trio had a group form a circle around them that clapped and cheered. Jack recognized the song as that Single Women -- or rather Ladies -- song.

Bitty was front and center as Ransom and Holster flanked him, and dripped and dropped, snapped and shimmed as they danced to the song’s “Oh, oh, oh! Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh!”

Tater suddenly appeared by Jack’s table and pressed a drink into his hand.

“ _Zazdarovje_ , Zimmboni! Drink up and have fun. Do it! Now!”

Jack looked at the glass and figured he’d had enough being the wallflower that evening. Fuck it. He threw back the double shot of vodka and Tater immediately gave him another he hid behind his back.

Jack gulped that one down as well. The sharp warmth hit his throat and slid down his chest.

Tater laughed, “Yes! Yesssss!” then grabbed Jack and pulled him toward the dance floor.

“Get him, Tater! Get him!” Jack heard George yell.

When _All the Single Ladies_ ended, Holster carried Bitty and swung him around. Everyone cheered as Bitty threw his arms around Holster’s neck and laughed and laughed.

Jack felt a twinge of jealousy, which surprised him greatly. Wanting, when it came to anything other than hockey, was something new for Jack. Something unsettling and unexpected.

Holster put Bitty down and DJ Johnson began to play _Big Fun_. Ransom and Holster’s eyes grew wide as they hugged one another and yelled, “THAT’S OUR FUCKING JAM!”

Everyone piled onto the dance floor.

And Tater? Well Tater honest to god lifted Jack up, walked him over to Bitty, and plopped him down in front of him.

Bitty couldn’t help by cover his mouth, eyes wide, and laugh seeing Jack red-faced and flustered both from the vodka and his proximity to Bitty.

“Everybody dance now!” Tater proclaimed as he strolled on the dance floor and DJ Johnson offered him a high five. The crowd burst into a loud cheer again.

Jack took Bitty by the hand and began to dance with him. He was a bit stiff, but soon loosened up and let himself go. Bitty smiled brightly, jumped up and down to the music.

And so for the next hour, everyone in the room danced. All manners were forgotten, courtships put on hold, and shyness ignored as the crowd let the music take over and lived for the joy of the dance.

**+**

After playing _YMCA_ (which DJ Johnson announced would be appreciated for its cheesiness by the readers) he played _Conga_ by Miami Sound Machine which was just as cheesy as _YMCA._

Tater grabbed George who grabbed Snowy, who grabbed Thirdy, who grabbed Shitty, Lardo, Ransom and Holster and so on, until an actual conga line formed. And the fuck if it wasn’t the most brilliant and ridiculous thing ever.

Jack and Bitty had the wherewithal to run off to the side, and extracted themselves from the clutches of Guy. Each laughed so hard, their sides hurt.

Sweat ran down Bitty’s forehead, as his hair stuck up in such an adorable way, Jack wasn’t sure he could control himself. Jack followed one bead of sweat as it crawled down Bitty’s neck and landed on the hollow of his throat. He watched how it shone, and Jack wanted so badly to lick it off -- to taste the salt on Bitty’s body.

“Want to go outside?” Jack said.

Bitty tried not to stare at Jack’s damp t-shirt which clung to his chest and abdomen. Bitty took a large gulp from a bottle of water and nodded. How easy would it be to rip that damn t-shirt off Jack’s body?

“Sure,” he replied breathlessly.

The two exited the ballroom and walked toward the lobby.

“Euh… want to go the rooftop terrace? We can cool down a little,” Jack asked.

Bitty looked at Jack’s mouth as he spoke, and dragged his teeth across his bottom lip, unable to either look away or form actual words.

“Uh-huh,” he finally croaked out.

They walked to the elevator and Jack pushed the up button once, then stood back and waited.

“Thanks for pressing it only one time,” Bitty said.

“One time is all you need.”

Bitty smiled and said, “It’s a pet peeve of mine when people keep pressing elevator buttons.”

“Mine too,” Jack responded.

“Once is enough,” they both said simultaneously, then looked at each other and smiled.

The elevator doors opened and Jack motioned for Bitty to step in.

As they entered the elevator, _Shut up Kiss Me_ was playing through the speakers.

 _**I could make it all go away** _  
_**Tell me what you think** _  
_**And don't delay** _

The elevator doors closed slowly.

 ****_**We could still be having some**_  
_**Sweet memories**_  
_**This heart still beats for you**_  
_**Why can't you see?**_

“This is odd elevator music,” Bitty said softly.

Jack nodded and listened intently. The universe not-so-subtly giving them a sign.

“I mean, I love this song -- it’s just not very elevator-y,” Bitty added.

 ****_**Shut up kiss me**_  
_**Hold me tight**_  
_**Stop your crying**_  
_**It's alright**_

The two stood quietly next to one another as the elevator went up, up, up. Their shoulders grazing just so. The vibration between them raw and electric.

Floors 7, 8, 9…

Beneath the perspiration, Jack could smell Bitty. He smelled like sunlight and fresh laundry… like linen and pine.

Floors 10, 11, 12...

Bitty turned his head and looked up at Jack.

_**Shut up kiss me  
Hold me tight ** _

Jack took a deep breath and looked over at Bitty. If he just reached across, his hand would be on Bitty’s. If he just reached over.

Floors 13, 14, 15...

 ****_**Shut up kiss me**_  
_**Hold me tight**_  


Then the elevator doors opened with a loud ding, and the momentary spell was broken.

Jack cleared his throat, “After you.”

The two entered the terrace, and save for a few people it was fairly empty. The Providence skyline shone brightly ahead of them. Bitty walked toward the balcony and inhaled deeply.

“It’s such a beautiful night,” he said as he stretched and looked up at the moon.

Jack watched Bitty’s profile intently, the moonlight shimmered on him.

“Very beautiful,” Jack said quietly.

“So, I have a confession to make,” Bitty said.

“Confession?”

He nodded and said, “I may have Googled you when I got back to my room.”

Jack stiffened, “Oh.”

“And I learned that you’re from Montréal. I mean, I figured you were from Quebec, but didn’t know you were from Montréal proper.”

Jack felt the tension leave his shoulders.

“Yeah, yeah. Montréal,” he said with relief.

“Tell me about it. What’s it like? Do you go home a lot?”

“Well, my parents still live there so I visit as much as I can. I go home for Christmas, birthdays, things like that.”

Bitty watched as Jack became more and more animated.

“And I was born there so I guess people usually have an affinity for their hometown…”

“Hmmm? Do they?” Bitty asked grumpily, then smiled.

“I like it. It's a nice combination of old and new. Very contemporary but still feels very old world Europe. I love riding my bike through the Canal de Lachine. I love having the water nearby.”

Bitty smiled warmly and leaned in closer.

“Mmm… what else do you love?”

“Bagels. I can’t eat them all the time, but I do love a good Montréal bagel.”

“Bagels? Really?”

“We’re known for our bagels believe it or not.”

“You’re teasing me,” Bitty said as he playfully punched Jack’s arm.

“No, it’s true!”

“Poutine? Do you like poutine?”

Jack stage-whispered, “Will I be revoked my citizenship if I admit I don’t care much for it?”

“I won’t tell if you won’t. And if you get kicked out, you can always marry an American and stay here.”

Jack laughed nervously, and so did Bitty. The two then stared out onto the city below.

“Hey! There’s where you play,” Bitty said as he pointed at the Dunkin’ Donuts arena.

“Yes, that’s it.”

“I didn’t know it was this close -- since a trolley is taking us there for the skate, I figured it was further away.”

“I think they’re doing the trolley because the organizers don’t want drunken fest goers crossing the street haphazardly to get to the arena.”

Bitty laughed, “I guess that makes sense. So will you be skating?”

Jack nodded. “I will. Does this mean I get to see you do some fancy spins and jumps?”

“Lord no. And knock over someone’s granny or a small child? No thanks. I don’t think the organizers would look too kindly on that,” Bitty said with a laugh. “But I might be persuaded to join you in a friendly race.”

Jack chuckled, “How is that any safer than a jump?”

“I don’t know! Maybe we can get the Falcs to clear the ice so they can see one of their beloved captains get his ass kicked by a Wellie.”

“Get my ass kicked? Is that so?”

Bitty shrugged with sass, “I know what I know. I can’t help it if I’m greased lightning.”

“I may just have to arrange that since the gauntlet has been thrown.”

“You’re going to arrange me kicking your ass?” Bitty said as he laughed.

“No, wait! That’s not what I meant,” Jack said as he also laughedl. “I meant arranging the race.”

“I look forward to it, either way, Mr. Zimmermann,” Bitty said and extended a hand toward Jack, who took it and gave him a firm handshake.

Bitty’s hand stayed in Jack’s and the two looked at each other, eyes swept across the other’s face.

Bitty’s breath hitched as Jack leaned in ever so slightly. Then Bitty began to close his eyes and lean in as well, and Jack squeezed Bitty’s hand and thought this was it. He was going to kiss this precious, adorably hot ray of sunshine. He was going to kiss him. When was the last time he actually kissed someone? It had been a while. Oh no… what if he was bad at it? _Câlisse_! What if this went terribly and Bitty ended up hard noping him.

And then Jack froze, and Bitty’s eye flew open. He watched Jack with eyebrow raised, and in an instant, his expression changed.

He let out a quick huff of air, released Jack’s hand and said, “I think I’m going to call it a night.”

“You are?” Jack asked somewhat panicked.

“Yeah... I think so,” Bitty said and stood away slightly.

“Oh… okay,” Jack said looking deflated. He knew he messed up. He began to panic and it cost him a chance with Bitty. _Nice going, Zimmermann_ , Jack thought. _Just par for the course, isn’t it?_

They walked to the elevator, and Bitty pressed the down button. It seemed like an eternity before it arrived.

Bitty could kick himself for not sticking to his plan of the evening. He told himself he wasn’t going to make a move, and still, moves were made. And what did he get in return? A flustered Jack who clearly did not want to kiss him. _Nice going, Dicky_ , Bitty thought. _Just par for the course, isn’t it?_

The elevator doors opened, and the two walked in silently. The elevator was playing _Hello_ by Adele.

“Good lord,” Bitty muttered to himself as the doors closed.

**+++**

Bitty tossed restlessly in bed. It was 2:35 a.m. and Lardo hadn’t returned yet. He hadn’t heard Ransom or Holster enter their rooms either. He sat up and turned on the light, and blinked at the sudden brightness.

He kicked off the sheets and walked to the bathroom to pee. As he washed his hands, he looked at his reflection in the mirror.

“Eric Richard Bittle, what the hell are you doing?”

His reflection didn’t respond with any sage advice. Instead, it just replayed the awkward good night Jack and Bitty had given one another a few hours earlier.

_“Thanks for dancing with me, and whatnot,” Bitty called out as he walked quickly in front of Jack, leaving him behind._

_Jack trotted to catch up._

_“Sure… I-- I had fun. Bitty?”_

_Bitty stopped in the hallway and looked at Jack._

_“Everything okay?” He asked, brow furrowed._

_Bitty sighed._

_“Yeah, Jack. It is. No worries.”_

_He then tried to smile brightly, with little success. Jack walked him to his room and noticed what floor they were on._

_“Oh, my room is just down the hall. We’re really close to one another,” he said meekly._

_Bitty frowned at the mixed messages this boy sent._

_“Good night Jack.”_

_“Okay… Good night, Bitty.”_

_Bitty slid his key card in, and quickly entered his room, and left Jack outside._  
  


Bitty looked at his reflection and said, “Get a grip, kid.”

He then walked back to the bathroom and opened a bottle of water, took a sip then grimaced at how warm it was.

He sighed took the ice bucket, slipped on his Adidas slides, took his key card and walked to the ice machine.

As he approached, he heard the crunch crash rumble of ice as it landed in someone else’s bucket. He signed again as he walked up and waited his turn, when he found Jack Zimmermann there with an ice bucket in hand.

“Hey,” Bitty said as he tried not to smile and failed miserably.

“Hi,” Jack said too adorable for his own good in a Habs jersey, baggy sweatpants -- which clearly were not his -- and bare feet. His hair stuck up in the back and Bitty wanted to die.

“What are you doing here?” Bitty asked.

Jack held up the ice bucket mutely.

Bitty nodded and shuffled over to the ice machine and filled his bucket.

“Like, who even gets ice in a hotel really? Except for old dudes having an affair -- at least that’s how it usually is in movies,” Bitty said as he removed his bucket.

“And yet here we are,” Jack said with a smile.

“Yep.”

“So, I had a nice evening tonight -- er, yesterday. Whenever,” Jack said.

Bitty let himself smile, a warm thing, “Me too, Jack.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

“You goober,” Bitty said and laughed.

“Can I walk you back to your room?”

“Sure, we have to make sure I don’t get mugged for my ice. You never know what weirdos are hanging out in hotel corridors at ass o’ clock. For example,” Bitty said then pointed at Jack.

“You’re out here, too,” Jack said with a cheeky grin.

“See? My point exactly!”

They stopped in front of Bitty’s door, and Bitty playfully nudged Jack’s arm with his shoulder. A wayward ice cube plunked onto the loud hotel carpeting.

“Guess, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Bitty said.

Jack nudged the ice cube with his toe.

“Today. Guess you will,” he replied then looked up at Bitty.

Bitty smiled, opened his door, and waved at Jack as he slowly closed it.

“Oh, and Jack?” he said as he quickly swung it open again.

“Yes?”

“Get ready to have your ass kicked on the ice,” Bitty said as his smile grew wider.

“I’m looking forward to it, Bitty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Big Fun](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=auEiJTzgeOk) by D.O.N.S. & Terri B! I don’t know -- I was just thinking about loud, clubby songs these two yahoos would be into. This seemed to fit the bill.
> 
> [Shut Up Kiss Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nleRCBhLr3k) by Angel Olsen I love this damn song so much.
> 
> Thanks so much for all your comments. I love reading them and am so happy you’re digging this little fic.
> 
> Again, _Check, Please!_ characters created by the wonderful Ngozi.
> 
> Come and say hi on [Tumblr](http://wrathofthestag.tumblr.com).


	8. Fest Day 2: Saturday Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lord, one chapter devoted to just one morning? How many chapters am I going to crank out here? It's Saturday morning in the fic timeline. We still have all day Saturday and most of Sunday. What will happen next? As usual, Tater is the MVP.

In room 1212, Eric Bittle woke with a smile on his face at exactly 7:43 a.m. Early for Bitty to be sure, but he was excited for what the day had to offer. The potential was always so thrilling. An aphrodisiac. 

At the same time, just down the hall in room 1225, Jack Zimmermann did the unusual. The most unusual. He stayed in bed late (for him), and daydreamed of the blond-haired boy currently not many rooms away. Jack chose to eschew his morning work out and opted instead to lounge in bed, cozy and let his mind wander toward the “what ifs” he often forced himself to ignore.

“Zimmboni?”

“Yeah, Tater?”

“Please order coffee? Please?”

“I can make some if you want.”

“Room coffee? From old coffee machine and little pouches?”

“Yeah.”

“No. Come on, Zimmboni. Is taste bud as broken as fashion sense?”

Jack snorted, shook his head as he slid his feet up and down the bed – the coolness of the sheets felt nice against his skin. 

He looked over at Tater on his bed. He had his arm flung across his eyes and forehead.

“Zimmboni?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you call for coffee, yet?”

Jack sighed and said, “You know, Roadie Tater is much less a pain in the ass than Falc Fest Tater.”

“Probably. But Falc Fest Tater will get you laid, 10/10.”

Jack stared at Tater for a few seconds, and then reached for the phone. 

“Hello, Room Service?”

**+++**

“So what time did you get in?” Bitty asked as he poured syrup over his short stack which sat on the table. Lardo was in her bed, and wore sunglasses as she gingerly sipped a cup of coffee.

“About 3:30 maybe?”

“Lord, woman. Did you have fun?”

She smiled. “Uh-huh. The party was over at midnight and at that point Shitty and Tater had the inspired idea to go swimming. So we snuck into the hotel pool and swam.”

“Naked?” Bitty said somewhat scandalized.

“I’ll never tell.”

Bitty stuck his tongue out at Lardo.

“Then after, we went to Holster and Ransom’s room and played _Never Have I Ever_.”

Bitty’s eyebrows flew up.

“And Tater was there the entire time?”

“For sure. That dude is a fucking riot. Rans and Holster were on cloud nine. I think they even Facebook friended each other.

“Amaze,” Bitty said.

“Right? So… where did you run off to?” Lardo asked and lifted her sunglasses to waggle her brows at Bitty.

Bitty smiled.

“Well… Jack and I went to the terrace and first I thought he was going to kiss me in the elevator, and then I thought he was going to kiss me on the terrace, and then--”

“Where did he kiss you?” Lardo asked.

“Nowhere! That boy runs as hot and cold as cheap plumbing in ratty ass apartment. I ended up coming to my room. He walked me to my door, Lards, for crying out loud.”

“That gentleman bastard!”

“Right? But then still nothing happened. _Nothing_. So I gave up and came to bed.”

Lardo frowned and said, “Shitty wasn’t exaggerating when he said Jack had no game, huh?”

“I guess not. It would be so much easier to just ignore him and his stupid mixed signals if he weren’t so damn sweet, charming, and freaking gorgeous,” Bitty said as he angrily cut into his pancakes and shoveled in a giant forkful.

Lardo leaned back down into her pillows and grabbed her program from the nightstand.

“Hey, did you see Prince Frowning has a Q & A with Tater at ten this morning?

“Oh?” Bitty said as he reached for his coffee.

“Yeah, uh no. Don’t ‘oh?’ me, Bits. I damn well know you memorized his schedule like a mother fucker.”

Bitty sipped his coffee and looked at Lardo, wide-eyed and innocent and said, “Mayhaps I did, or mayhaps I didn’t.”

“Well you better chop chop if you want to shower and look cute for your man, Bits.”

Bitty drank some more coffee and grinned as he looked out the window toward the Providence skyline.

**+++**

“I texted Ransom and Holster. They’re meeting us downstairs. I said whoever gets there first should save seats,” Lardo said as she grabbed her lanyard, and adjusted her beanie.

“You look very pretty today, Lards.”

“Aw, thanks, Bits.”

“Now you wouldn’t be gussying yourself up for anyone in particular?”

“Yes. Myself-- I’m the only one that matters. Come on, you dweeb. Let’s go.”

Bitty gave himself a final once over in the full-length mirror, he turned around and looked at his butt.

“Those squats seem to be working. Mr. Hockey will appreciate it, and who knows? He might actually make a move with a capital M. Now come on, let’s go. I wanna grab some coffee to go before we head out there,” said Lardo. 

Bitty nodded at his reflection and flashed Lardo a thumbs up.

**+**

Jack stood behind the curtain, peered out and wondered if Bitty would show up. 

Why did he agree to this panel? He hated answering questions from the press, why would he subject himself to an hour of questions from any rando out there? 

Thank god Tater would be there with him. Not only was Tater born with the gift of the gab, he could also work a crowd like a champ.

“You looking for tiny adorable man?”

Jack jumped and said, “Do I need to put a bell around your neck? How can you be that big and still so silent?”

“I train like ninja,” he said with a shrug as he poked his head out into the crowd. Ransom and Holster sat in the front row and waved.

Tater waved back, which made the two D-men flail and punch each other in the arm.

“No punchies,” Tater called out and then went back inside, as Jack stood behind him and tried to get a better look.

“Well, Zimmboni… good news is my new beffies are sitting there. Bad news is no tiny adorable man.”

Jack frowned then said, “What the hell is a beffie?”

“Beffie! Beffie! You know, best friend forever? Zimmboni, you are like seniors citizen, I swear.”

Jack stared at Tater and was about to say something when Tater clapped him on the back and said, “Okay, ten minutes till show time. I go eat donut.”

Shitty walked into the ballroom at the same time as Bitty and Lardo, much to Lardo’s delight.

“Brah!” Shitty said as he offered Bitty his hand. He then looked over at Lardo. 

“Milady,” he said as he tipped his invisible hat. 

She smiled and gave him one of the two cups of coffee she had in her hand.

“Look at these nerds, they got seats in the front row,” Lardo said and pointed her coffee in their direction, as they walked over.

“I heard that,” Holster called out.

“You were meant to,” Lardo replied as she slid into her seat.

“Front row? Does this seem too… clingy?” Bitty said.

“Not if he’s our new best friend,” Ransom said and leaned back down into his seat, closed his eyes, and crossed his arms in the process.

“I think he was talking about himself,” Shitty said with a laugh. “So how is everyone this morning?”

The answers ranged from tired to handsome to hungover and nervous.

Shitty leaned over across Lardo to talk to Bitty. 

“So, I was doing some early morning texting with a certain hunky Canadian…”

“Marty?” Bitty said with a cheeky grin.

“Heh! No. The other one.”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Ransom called out from his seat, eyes still closed.

“As I was saying,” Shitty said with a laugh, “I was texting with _Jack_ and I asked him how his evening went and he wrote back, and I quote…” Shitty paused to pull out his phone, he scrolled a bit and continued, “'Good, Shitty. Real good.'”

Bitty smiled with eyebrows raised.

Shitty bounced in his seat, “Do you know what that means in robot speak?”

Bitty wordlessly shook his head.

“It means he had the best time he’s had in a long time– that didn’t involve ice.”

“Well, there was _some_ ice involved.”

Shitty laughed and slapped Bitty’s knee. 

“Okay, but can you get off me now?” Lardo called off and pushed Shitty to the side.

Bitty smiled and settled into his seat as the room lights dimmed slightly.

DJ Davey walked on stage, energy level set way too high for 10:00 a.m.

“Good morning, Falcs Fest!”

The audience clapped.

“I can’t hear you!”

The audience cheered and clapped.

“I said good morning, FALCS FEST!”

The audience’s applause then became lukewarm which caused Ransom and Holster to cackle with glee.

DJ Davey cleared his throat and continued, “Did everyone recover from last night’s party? Thanks to DJ Johnson for spinning a variety of tunes – including a couple doozies there.”

Johnson called out from the floor, “They moved the plot forward, Dave.”

“This guy!” DJ Davey said as he shrugged his shoulders. “I never know what the hell he’s talking about half the time. Anyway, welcome to the first Q & A of the day, and boy, oh boy, are you in for a treat. Today we have the Czar of Sass, the man voted by GQ magazine as the Best Dressed Athlete two years in a row, the face of Dolce and Gabbana cologne – the wickedly charming, outrageously funny, Mr. Blue Steel on Ice, Alexei Tater Mashkov!”

Ransom and Holster whooped and hollered.

“And… joining him is Jack Zimmermann.”

Jack frowned at his introduction. 

“What the hell?” He muttered to himself.

“Okay, Zimmboni, just be yourself. The you I know, and it will be good.”

“Haha. Just be myself. Sure, Tater,” Jack said as they walked out.

Tater waltzed onto the stage as he both threw kisses and freely distributed finger guns left and right. 

Jack followed behind him and gave a quick wave. He saw Bitty in the front row, which caused him to flash a quick smile. They sat down and DJ Davey pulled up a chair.

“Alexei and Jack, welcome.”

“Please, call me, Tater. Only my mama call me Alexei – when she is angry,” Tater said as he animatedly held up both hands in a gesture of surrender. The audience laughed. “Good to be here with all the good people,” Tater said as he sat down.

“Hello, everyone,” Jack said as he put the microphone very close to his mouth.

“So the way this works is, we’ll just keep it cas’ and take questions from the audience. My assistant, DJ Johnson, will be in the audience with a mic. Cool?” DJ Davey called out.

Johnson waved.

“Yes, cool,” Tater said, as Jack nodded.

A woman in the audience raised her hand. DJ Davey pointed at her.

“Good morning, what’s your question?”

Johnson handed her the microphone.

“Hi, guys! Good luck this season. Okay, my question is how do you prepare for a game? Do you have any pregame rituals?”

“Listen to the Captain. Captain is always right!” Tater said as he made air quotes when he said the word right. 

The audience laughed, and Tater continued. “But serious, listen to captain, watch team members – you listen with eyes, with ears. Whole body. Focus on practice and knowing what team will do before they do it. You become family. You are family. A family who kill opponent. Like mafia!”

More laughter.

“Pregame ritual is to call my mama…”

The audience cooed.

“… do a little dance, and say prayer.”

Tater smiled then looked at Jack who cleared his throat and said, “I watch tape, study the other team’s defense, go over my notes from the last game we had against that particular team. Data… euh, I gather data and um… examine it.”

Bitty clapped in support.

“And I eat a PBJ.”

DJ Davey looked at Jack and said, “Jack here is quite the wild man, eh, Tater?”

Tater smiled and said, “Yes! Zimmboni is funny and great. Is good guy!”

DJ Davey raised an eyebrow and said, “Johnson? Next question.”

Another woman jumped up and lifted her hand. Johnson handed her the microphone.

“You both have amazing bodies. Like, just _amazing_. Do you do anything during the summer to keep yourself conditioned for the season?”

“Weights every day, on and off-season. Yoga! I get Zimmboni to do yoga with me. I like to swim, go to beach, go to pool, wear Speedo,” said Tater as he wagged his eyebrows.

Someone in the audience whistled.

Jack cleared his thoat and spoke, “I don’t go easy during the summers. I run every day, weights, TRX, high intensity training, get on the ice and practice shots… I just got into steel mace --- Onnit, you know Onnit? It’s fun…”

Bitty smiled at Jack, and could see a thin later of sheen on Jack’s utter lip. Poor Jack was nervous and sweating. 

“Cardio… lots of cardio. I run. A lot,” Jack said as he chewed on his lower lip and then stopped talking.

And so the panel went on for about 40 minutes, Tater being the comedic relief and Jack answered questions as if he were with the press. Bitty just wanted to run up there, hug him and tell him it was almost over.

“…our lineup has strong leadership and excellent veteran guys. We’re fortunate we have the type of people in the locker room that we have.”

“Thanks, Jack. Next question?”

One douche-y looking bro guy asked, “Does your dad give you pointers?”

Jack frowned, “Well, not pointers per se. I often ask him for advice about everything; not just hockey.”

“Do you think you’ll ever surpass Bad Bob? Or are you just doomed to live his shadow?”

The audience grew deathly silent. 

Ransom leaned over and whispered, “What the fuck, man?”

Holster said, “That gentleman is an asshole.”

Bitty could see the look of panic and hurt begin to form on Jack’s face. He just wanted to help Jack, so he did the only thing he could think to do. He jumped up and yelled out a question as loud as he could.

“Do you like ketchup or mayonnaise on your fries?”

Jack’s eyes quickly shot to Bitty’s.

“Euh… pardon?”

Johnson jogged over and handed Bitty the microphone.

“Ketchup or mayo, Mr. Zimmermann?”

Jack smiled. “Neither. I’m a purist and like them plain on the rare chance I eat them.”

Ransom then took the microphone from Bitty.

“Plain or peanut M & Ms?”

Jack chuckled and said, “Plain.”

Holster asked, “Your thoughts on Scrappy-Doo, sir?”

“He’s utter shit!”

The audience laughed.

Lardo raised her hand, “Pop art or surrealism?”

“Abstract expressionism!” Jack called out with enthusiasm.

“Mr. Zimmermann! Mr. Zimmermann!” Shitty called out. “Blonds or brunettes?”

Jack smiled shyly and said, “Blonds… definitely blonds.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should have the next chapter done by the day after tomorrow. The trip is going well. Uneventful --which is good. :) Thanks for all your notes, comments, supports, chocolates, bribes, etc.


	9. Fest Day 2: Saturday Afternoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! Here we go! On a happy note, I'm back home Wednesday night and I have long travel all day so I'm sure I'll get lots of writing done. Finally, Jack starts loosening up and becoming more confident. Will they kiss yet? Does the long drawn out foreplay continue? We shall see...

After the panel, Bitty walked on air as he made his way out of the ballroom. Lardo, Holster and Ransom high fived one another on a job well done. No one messed with one of their own. And for as little as they knew Jack, they now considered him one of their own. If Bitty really liked him, then he couldn’t be bad.

Jack was behind the stage, a smile on his face, as Tater slapped him on the back.

“You make smooth move, Zimmboni. Good on you!”

Jack nodded and recalled Bitty’s beaming face.

_“Blonds… definitely blonds.”_

He walked out of the ballroom with some pep in his step.

**+++**

Jack was stuck at the photo station for the next 90 minutes and while he would normally be loath to do this, this morning he didn’t mind so much. Unbeknownst to him, Lardo and Shitty were in his line. 

“Thanks for coming,” Jack said as he shook someone’s hand.

“Thanks for stopping by,” he said as he was handed two children to pose with.

Shitty watched Jack and said, “Look how relaxed he is. It’s fucking amazing!”

One of the children smushed Jack’s face, and Jack laughed and made a funny expression.

“Aw, he’s sweet. And note, I _never_ call anything sweet,” Lardo said dryly.

When they made it to the front of the line, Jack shook his head as he spied Shitty.

“Seriously, Shits?”

“You know me, Jacko. This is Lardo, by the way. I don’t think you two have officially met.”

“No, nice to officially meet you,” Jack said.

“Likewise,” she said giving a quick curtsy. 

“Okay. Let’s keep it going, please,” the photographer suddenly called out.

“Sorry about that,” Jack said.

The trio huddled together (Lardo in between the two men who appeared like giants next to her) and smiled.

“Thanks, Mr. Zimmermann!” Shitty called out facetiously. 

Lardo then leaned in and said, “Just a head’s up. There may or may not be a certain cutie waiting down the line.” 

She winked and walked away with Shitty. Jack felt his mouth become dry as he scanned the crowd looking for Bitty.

Twelve people later, he saw a head of bright blond hair then caught a glimpse of two large brown eyes blinking back at him. 

Jack smiled extra brightly when the next couple came up for their photograph, none the wiser that that particular smile had a special recipient.

By the time Bitty arrived at the front of the line, Jack vibrated with anticipation.

“Next,” the photographer called as he signaled to Bitty.

Bitty walked over and stood next to Jack. The two smiled awkwardly at one another. 

“Euh… do you want any particular pose?”

“What? Oh. I don’t know,” Bitty said with a shy shrug.

Jack leaned in and put his arm around Bitty, as the photographer said, “One, two, three…”

The two froze and waited for the flash to go off. 

The photographer adjusted something on his laptop. “One more time, please. One, two, three…”

Jack and Bitty could barely breath. 

“Shoot. Sorry!” The photographer said. “We’re experiencing technical difficulties. Just a sec.”

He stepped off to the side behind the lights, moved various buttons on his camera, and checked his laptop.

Jack and Bitty stood quietly, as Jack held his arm gingerly around Bitty’s shoulder. Bitty leaned in a micro fraction into Jack’s touch.

The photographer had now removed the lens and talked to his assistant. He held up a finger toward Jack and Bitty motioning to wait. They nodded in return.

Jack looked over to Bitty, and watched as Bitty swallowed. His Adam’s apple bobbed slowly, and Jack, in turn, felt his breathing hitch as he found himself wondering once again what Bitty would taste like. What Bitty would feel like… underneath him, on top of him, _behind_ him.

Bitty cleared his throat, which caused Jack to startle out of the road his mind led him down.

“So… are you ready for the skate later, Jack?”

“Yes,” he replied; his voice thick and gravelly. 

Bitty looked up at him with a warm smile, and Jack suddenly felt ashamed and embarrassed at the lusty turn his thoughts had taken. He had no right, Jack thought to himself, to treat Bitty this way – even if it was just in his mind.

He lowered his arm quickly and moved an inch away from Bitty, which caused Bitty to frown.

“Okay, problem fixed. Thanks for your patience. Say cheese, you two.”

The photograph later showed two very uncomfortable people next to each other, both with forced smiles.

**+++**

The festival VIPs arrived at the Dunkin’ Donuts arena greeted by George, DJ Davey, Shitty, and various other Falcs social media staff members.

“Welcome, VIPs! Please be sure to follow the arena staff that will be escorting you to the rink through the tunnel. Photography will be allowed, but please no flash photography. We don’t want to blind the players and have them crash into each other," George announced.

"You break it, you buy it!” DJ Davey called out. 

Ransom and Holster shook their head at DJ Davey.

“You hear that, Bits? I bet Zimmermann’s ass is insured for millions,” Lardo said elbowing Bitty.

Bitty rolled his eyes, still sore from his earlier interaction with Jack. 

“Okay, now that we know Tater will play crack the whip, we have to decide who will be the crackees and who will be the cracker.”

Ransom laughed and said, “I’m not even going to touch that one. How about we just let Tater be the front of the whip?”

“Sounds good to me!” Holster said. 

They all followed the small crowd into the arena where the VIPs were lead to seats in the front row and benches.

Bitty pulled out his skates from his duffle bag and took his time lacing them up as he surveyed the ice from the visitor’s bench. 

Little by little, the players poured out onto the ice and interacted with festival attendees. Tater immediately roughhoused with Ransom and Holster. He then saw Falconer number one glide out.

Bitty instantly looked down at this skates, and pretended to busy himself with his laces as he heard the _swoosh-swoosh-swoosh_ of strong and steady strides approaching.

“Hey,” Jack said.

“Oh. Hey, Jack,” Bitty said nonchalantly and didn't raise his head. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“I was just in the neighborhood and decided to pop in,” Jack said as Bitty finally faced him. Jack smiled broadly.

Bitty laughed and saw a certain ease on Jack he hadn’t yet seen the entire weekend. He liked it.

Jack pushed off, gliding away backward, and said, “Well? Are you coming or not?”

Bitty stepped onto the ice and skated toward Jack. By now, everyone was on the ice. Shitty was gingerly guided Lardo across the ice as she tried not to fall. Tater, Ransom and Holster pretended to check one another, and Bitty watched as the beautiful boy in front of him beckoned him closer with the come hither wag of a finger. The ice made him confident… almost cocky. Yes, Bitty liked it. _Very_ much.

Bitty was in trouble, and oh boy did he ever know it.

What was even going on?

Snowy skated behind Jack and Bitty and noticed as they chatted effortlessly. Jack’s shoulders were actually at their proper place and not hunched up to his ears, as they normally were. Clearly, he felt comfortable talking to whoever this person was.

Interesting… _quite_.

Snowy skated over to Marty and Thirdy, who stood off to the side.

“Guys, who’s Zimmermann talking to?”

They both looked over as Bitty gesticulated wildly, while Jack paid attention to what he was saying, and then laughed and nodded.

“I have no idea. He looks familiar though,” Marty said with eyebrow raised.

“Yeah… and shit, Zimmermann is… laughing?” said Thirdy.

“Right‽” Snowy said enthusiastically.

When Tater skated by, Snowy grabbed him by the arm and pulled him closer.

“Hey, hey, hey! No checking!” 

“Tater, who is that?” Snowy asked as Marty and Thirdy leaned in closer.

“Who?”

“That! _That_!” Snowy said as he subtly pointed with his head.

Tater called out loudly and signaled toward Jack and Bitty, “Tiny adorable man with Zimmboni?”

Thirdy, Marty and Snowy simultaneously shushed Tater.

“Oh, his name Bitty.”

“He has a small name?” Marty asked.

“No, name is Bitty. Maybe because he’s teeny? He’s hockey player at university with Ransy and Holtsy. I think Zimmboni like him a lot.”

Tater watched them skate as Bitty did a tiny waltz jump.

“Cute. Big smile from Zimmboni.”

All four of them continued to eye Jack and Bitty as they skated past the group. Jack noticed and frowned. The four immediately looked away.

Jack turned and looked over his shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” Bitty asked.

“I think we have an audience.”

Bitty turned around and waved at the guys who looked at them once again.

Thirdy said, “Isn’t that the dude that was late to our panel?”

Marty laughed. “Yeah, that kid was ballsy.”

When Jack and Bitty circled again, each of the guys gave them a thumbs up.

“ _Crisse_!” Jack said under his breath, as Bitty returned the thumbs up.

“So are you excited for the new season?” Bitty asked.

“I’m looking forward to what the season will have to offer and----”

“Nope,” Bitty said shook his head rapidly. “Give me the Jack answer and not the Falconers canned press answer.”

Jack smiled and said, “Sorry. Yes, you’re right. Well, I’m anxious. I get like this from the start of each season.” 

Jack realized this was something he never admitted to people, but talking to Bitty about it was easy. Almost second nature.

“It’s not just my team I’m worried about, it’s me letting them down, letting my dad down.”

“I don’t think that’s possible, Jack. Look at how much you’ve accomplished. Look at everything you’ve been through and how you give 110%.”

“How do you know what I do?”

“You don’t think I haven’t been watching YouTube clips this weekend and reading about you. You’re amazing, Mr. Zimmermann.”

Jack watched his feet as he skated, unable to look at Bitty.

“And I’m sure your parents love you – perceived flaws and all. Whereas mine…” he sighed. “Sometimes I feel like they don’t even know me.”

“How so?”

“Well, for starters they don’t know I’m gay,” Bitty said and threw his arms up.

“Neither of them know?”

Bitty shook his head. “I didn’t even come out really or say the words ‘I’m gay’ till I went to Samwell. I came out to Holster using flash cards, for goodness sake. What about you?”

Jack skated around a couple that was in front of them, and was then next to Bitty again.

“It wasn’t ever a big deal in my house. I know how lucky I am at home, here in my job… me being bi isn’t what defines me as a player. My performance does. Bi is just a part of who I am, and that’s how it’s always been.”

“I love that,” Bitty said and continued, “My mom is my best friend. I’ve always relied on her for everything and it… feels so disingenuous to leave her out of this vital part of my life – of my existence.”

Jack and Bitty skated over to the side, and allowed everyone else to pass.

“With my mom in the fashion and entertainment industry, she always had lots of LGBTQA friends: her theater friends, fashion friends, actors, models. She’s always been an ally – _both_ of my parents, actually.”

Bitty listened intently, watching Jack’s face become more and more animated as he spoke about both his parents.

“My mom said she’d never have given my dad the time of day if he’d been a stereotypical jock. Bad Bob is actually quite a softie,” Jack said with a chuckle.

“Really?”

“Damn right.”

Bitty smiled. “You are lucky.”

“I am. I really am. So, your parents. Are they…”

“Homophobic? No. Who knows. No… they’re not. But, it’s not like I can go back home and The Coach Bittle can be all like, ‘I love my gay hockey son.’ Excuse my lame half-assed _Heathers_ reference.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Oh boy, Jack. I know hockey is your life and all but sweetheart, you need _some_ pop culture in your life.”

“What for?”

“Well, what will you talk about at parties when conversing with regular folk?”

“I don’t go to parties.”

“So not the point. Also, why not?”

Jack gently kicked the boards.

“I don’t get invited to any?”

Bitty sighed exasperatedly. 

“That’s because you give off the don’t-you-dare-invite-me-anywhere-fun vibe and now people have gotten the hint not to invite you.”

“History,” Jack said.

“The who and the what now?” Bitty said with brows furrowed.

“History. I can talk to people about history.”

Bitty smiled and slapped Jack on the chest. 

“Well, there you go! You can always talk about assassinations, wars, and toppled governments. On second thought,” Bitty said with a mock frown.

Jack laughed. “I’d only stick to the happy parts of history then.”

“Oh, you sweet summer child.”

Jack elbowed Bitty gently and said, “Haha.”

“Okay, Jack Laurent Zimmermann! Keep on sassing me.”

“Oh I will Bitty… euh, Bitty? What’s your whole name? I just realized I haven’t the slightest clue.”

“I hate it. That’s why I never use it – much less go by it.”

“How bad can it be?” Jack asked.

Bitty sighed and responded, “Very bad. It’s Bittyward Bitterson.”

“Really?” 

“Yes, it’s a family name. I’m the seventh Bittyward.”

“Oh,” Jack said looking slightly horrified.

“No, you ding dong! I’m messing with you.” Bitty said laughing. “It’s Eric. Eric Bittle. Eric _Richard _Bittle, to be exact,” he said with a small shrug.__

__Jack skated in front of Bitty and stopped. He offered his hand._ _

__“Eric Richard Bittle… it’s nice to meet you. Would you like to go get some coffee?”_ _

__“Sure. Yeah,” Bitty said as he looked at Jack and smiled._ _

__**+** _ _

__They approached the coffee bar, and Jack signaled for Bitty to enter first. Aligned on the counter were various labeled thermal carafes. Jack handed Bitty a cup and took one himself._ _

__“Let’s see here,” Jack said and pointed at each. “There’s dark roast, light, Falcs’ house blend…”_ _

__“Fancy!”_ _

__“Decaf, vanilla pecan…”_ _

__“What?”_ _

__“Vanilla pecan?”_ _

__“Well, I gotta tell you, I know what a pecan is but have no clue what a _pecan_ is.”_ _

__“What?”_ _

__“You’re saying it wrong. It’s pecan.”_ _

__“You mean pecan.”_ _

__“No sir, it’s pecan.”_ _

__“Pecan?”_ _

__“Goodness gracious. Pecan! Are you doing this on purpose?”_ _

__“Pecan!”_ _

__“Is this a Canadian thing?” Bitty asked loudly._ _

__“No, it’s a proper pronunciation thing, Bittyward,” Jack replied with a smirk._ _

__“All I know is that when I bake, I make a _pecan_ pie. Not a _pecan_ pie -- whatever that is.”_ _

__“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”_ _

__“It’s _about_ ,” Bitty said as he crossed his arms in front of him._ _

__Jack smiled and said, “Oh, look! Here’s some cocoa. How about some of that instead? You do call it cocoa, right?”_ _

__“Actually, I call it coo-coo,” Bitty said as with a serious expression. Jack stared at him until Bitty cracked, and the two laughed._ _

__**+** _ _

__Halfway through the skate, DJ Davey called out for everyone’s attention. Shitty stood next to him wearing a shit-eating grin._ _

__“Ladies, gents, and Falcs!” DJ Davey said into his microphone. “May I have your attention, please? My buddy here has just informed me that a friendly competition has been planned. Can Jack Zimmermann and Bitty join me up here?”_ _

Bitty laughed. “I’m like Beyoncé! Going by one name – my time has come!” 

__Jack skated over to Shitty and DJ Davey._ _

__“You set this up, Shits?”_ _

“You know me,” Shitty said. “Just call me Cupid.”

DJ Davey motioned for Bitty to get closer.

__“So tell us a little about yourself, Bitty.”_ _

__He waved to everyone and said, “I’m Bitty – and that’s my nickname, not my size. I’m regular-sized, thank you very much. I’m a student at Samwell University majoring in American Studies, and I play forward for the Samwell Men's Hockey Team.”_ _

__Ransom, Holster and Lardo all shouted, “Yasss!” as Bitty did a quick twirl on the ice._ _

__“And you’re going to race Jack Zimmermann?”_ _

__“Sure am! And I’m gonna win.”_ _

__DJ Davey laughed. “Well those are fighting words. What do you have to say to that, Jack?”_ _

__“I guess I better skate hard and fast then.”_ _

__DJ Davey patted Jack on the back, “I guess you better. Okay, if everyone can fully clear the ice. You two will skate around the entire perimeter three times. First person to complete, wins.”_ _

__Jack and Bitty nodded and lined up as DJ Davey started counting off._ _

__“On your marks…”_ _

__“ _Bonne chance_ , Bittle.”_ _

__“Get set…”_ _

__“So, you like it hard and fast, huh? Me too.”_ _

__“Go!”_ _

__Bitty took off like a gunshot as he grinned, as Jack stood still momentarily stunned._ _

__“Go, you big Canadian moose!” Thirdy yelled._ _

__Jack kick started his brain and began catching up to Bitty, but damn was he fast. So fast!_ _

__Jack caught up, only to have Bitty pull ahead. Jack could hear Bitty’s laughter, loud and bright, as he moved with incredible speed as if it weren’t a big deal._ _

__Jack pushed himself, and felt his quads start to burn._ _

__Cheers were coming from all over the arena, both Jack and Bitty’s names being called._ _

__“ _Tabarnak_!” Jack yelled as he reached Bitty only to have him pull away again. Then Bitty showed he was done fucking around. He skated even faster, and left Jack far behind._ _

__Bitty turned back quickly to see where Jack was, and then he bent lower as he put his arms into it._ _

__Jack almost stopped just so he could watch._ _

__Two laps, two and a half – Bitty easily glided into the last lap and won with arms up in the air as the arena burst into loud cheers and applause._ _

__Bitty smiled as Ransom and Holster lifted him up into the air, and all Jack could do was laugh and clap._ _

__There was no jealousy, not a hint of a sore loser -– Jack was beaten fair and square, and he felt pride. He was proud of Bitty._ _

__Jack was in so much trouble, and boy did he know it._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of your comments and support with this. Your kudos are like cellies to my soul. Your comments are hatties! <333


	10. Fest Day 2: Saturday Early Evening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm at my gate posting this before I get on flight one of two. Let the record show, I wrote this chapter on a bumpy road in a hot bus traveling through a rainforest. Woo! Shitty offers Jack some advice. Will he listen? Will you, Jacques?!

After the skate, the VIPs were escorted back onto the trolley to be taken to the hotel. Bitty sat in his seat, staring dreamily out the window.

_“Are you going to the party tonight?” Jack had asked Bitty softly as he watched him unlace his skates._

_“Sure. Isn’t everyone?”_

_“Well, I suppose now they are,” Jack said with a smile before he skated back to the Falconers’ locker room._

Bitty smiled widely as the trolley pulled into the hotel driveway.

**+++**

Lardo looked at her program and poked Ransom and Holster as they sat in the outdoor patio, nursing a beer and some potato skins.

“Duuuuudes,” she said. “Did you see?”

“Right? Who doesn’t put bacon on loaded potato skins?” Holster asked.

“No, you doofus. Some of the guys are going to be in the main hall doing a Falcs Face Off with people.”

“We’re totally going,” Ransom called out.

“I wonder if Jack will be competing?” Bitty asked.

“Dude! Look, I appreciate your little romance you got going on with Mr. Hockey Robot but don’t steal my Tater thunder. We’re going so we can hang out with Alexei.”

Bitty raised an eyebrow and said, “ _Alexei_ is it? Well now!”

“Shush!” Ransom said, as Holster and Lardo made kissy noises in the background.

**+++**

The Samwell gang showed up at the main hall and squeezed their way to the front of the crowd where an elaborate set up stood on a temporary stage. The Falconers logo hung from the ceiling, as well as a giant clock. On the stage sat a round table with two chairs, a whiteboard on an easel, two adult-sized baby high chairs sat off to the side, and DJ Davey stood at a podium while DJ Johnson stood by the participating Falconers.

Tater saw his new group of friends and waved. Snowy and Poots saw Bitty and grinned. 

By now, word had spread that Jack made a friend at the festival. Of course, this was all discussed without Jack’s knowledge as the group knew how shy and private he could be.

“Tater,” Poots said, “we should have your friends be the first group to go against us, man.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure! DJ Davey – get my new best friends on stage.”

And so, Lardo, Ransom, Holster, and Bitty found themselves in various Face Offs against the Providence Falconers.

The first game was a word search. Bitty watched as Tater went head to head with Lardo. The two shook hands and sat facing one another at the table. They had one minute to find as many words on a sheet as possible.

“You’re going down, Ivan Drago,” Lardo called out, and Tater laughed.

DJ Davey said, “Johnson, set the clock for one minute.”

He nodded and pulled his baseball cap way down, and set the timer.

“Annnnnnd go!”

Ransom and Holster began to cheer loudly.

“You fuckers better be cheering for me,” Lardo said as she furiously circled words.

“I like this girl! She’s tiny but tough – remind me of mama.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, bud,” Lardo said.

The Falconers stood behind Tater cheering and laughing at Lardo’s spunk.

As the seconds counted down, Tater called out frantically, “I don’t know many of these words!”

“You don’t have to know them to find them, bro!” Lardo said without looking up.

“AND TIME!”

Tater laughed and jumped over to lift Lardo off her feet.

“Put me down, you damn gigantor,” she said as she laughed and playfully punched his arm.

Johnson took both puzzle sheets and counted the words.

“While I’m not sure what the point of this —except maybe to add more words to this chapter-- I will say that Tater found 12 words,” Johnson said.

“Is good or bad? I can’t tell,” Tater said.

“And Lardo here has… 15!”

“Sam _well done_!” Bitty yelled.

“Sam _well done_! Booyah!” Ransom and Holster called back in response.

Next, Ransom and Holster went against Marty and Guy. 

Ransom and Marty were blindfolded and tasked with feeding Holster and Guy, respectively, a bowl of baby food. The least messy duo would win. 

Johnson sat Holster and Guy in the giant high chairs, and tied a Falconers bib around each of their necks.

As they played, Snowy discreetly sidled up next to Bitty.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi. You here trying to infiltrate enemy lines?”

Snowy laughed. He liked Bitty.

“Nope, just here to find out your intentions.”

Bitty gave Snowy side eye. 

“Intentions?”

“Yeah, you and Zimmermann. So, you like him or what?”

“Mr. Snowden, and that is your concern how exactly?”

Snowy raised his hands in surrender. “I don’t mean any disrespect, Bitty. Zimmermann looks happy. So I’m just here to encourage the love fest.”

Bitty smiled, and playfully shoved Snowy away.

“Shoo! I mean it. Scoot!”

“Brazen, aren’t you?”

“I will say, Mr. Nosey, that I have the best intentions. Now go.”

“That’s all we want. Zimmermann is… shy. Special.”

“I know that, and appreciate you looking out for him. Now beat it!”

Snowy winked at Bitty and joined his group just as the timer buzzed.

Holster and Guy were both a sorry ass sight with carrot purée all over their faces and shirts.

DJ Johnson laughed as he removed the blindfolds.

“Dude!” Ransom yelled.

“I am not amused,” Guy said dryly as Marty doubled over in laughter.

Lardo shamelessly took a selfie with both guys behind her.

“I need a shower,” Holster cried out.

The Falconers all snapped photos of Guy’s grumpy face as Marty continued to roar.

Marty caught his breath, took the microphone from DJ Davey and said, “I think we can all agree we’re _all_ winners in this scenario.”

The crowd grew wild.

**+++**

Later in the lounge, Poots and Snowy convened. Tater dozed in the background on one of the large couches.

“So what did he say?” Poots asked Snowy.

“Ugh, don’t talk to him,” Snowy said. “You’ll only fall in love. He’s cute as a goddamn button. He said he only has the best of intentions.”

Poots high fived Snowy as Jack walked in, and nodded at them. He grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl on the food table.

“Our baby is growing up,” Poots said as he clutched at his chest.

Jack peeled his banana and looked at them both. “What the hell are you two going on about?”

Snowy pretended to dab a tear in his eye, and said, “Nothing… just go and be happy, sweet child.”

Jack took a giant bite of his banana.

“You two are fucking weird,” he said and began to walk out of the lounge.

“Where are you going?” Poots asked.

“Out.”

“Who are you going with?” Snowy added.

“No one.”

“When will you be back?”

“Never. Don’t wait up,” Jack said as he left. Snowy and Poots heard the elevator ding as Jack left the floor.

“Seems like just yesterday we brought him home from the hospital,” Poots sighed.

“Jack’s right,” Tater called from the couch, eyes still closed. “You two _are_ fucking weird. Yeesh.”

**+++**

Jack looked at his watch as he sat on the terrace taking in the hot afternoon sun. 

He finished his banana and flung the peel into the nearby trash bin.

“Two points, Jackabelle.”

“Nothing but net, Shits. Nothing but net.”

“Jack Zimmermann: NBA star! Something about that just sounds so fucking weird,” Shitty said with a smile. “What are you doing up here, Jack?”

“Just taking in some sun. Vitamin D. Keeps you healthy. What are _you_ doing up here?”

“Looking for you, bud. I said to myself, ‘Self, where would the hottest Canadian in the world be right about now?’ So here I am. Yay.”

Shitty knew Jack well enough to sense when he was entering one of his introspective phases.

“Anything you wanna talk about, Jack?”

Jack shook his head. “No, why?”

“Well, a big fucking crush can discombobulate even the biggest stoic.”

“I’m not a stoic, Shits.”

“Right,” Shitty said. “And I’m not a big fucking pot head.”

Jack laughed. “Hey! That’s none of my business, man.”

“So why are you up here, instead of hanging out with a certain Samwell hockey forward?”

Jack shrugged.

“Brah! After he won the race, you looked at that boy like he invented maple syrup. And you are one of the most competitive mother fuckers I’ve ever met.”

Jack didn’t say anything. He busied himself looking out onto the Providence skyline before him.

“It’s okay to want this, Jack. You know you can have more than just hockey in your life. Either thing won’t suffer if you do both.”

“I know,” Jack mumbled.

“Do you? Haven’t we had this conversation already this weekend? Am I just repeating myself? Is this Groundhog Day? Jesus Christ.”

Shitty leaned against the railing and kicked at Jack’s shoe.

“He’s perfect for you, you beaut. And speaking of perfect -- that Lardo. God _damn_!”

Jack smiled.

“What magical fucking land did she come from? A place where pot grows freely and unicorns graze alongside the road?”

Jack laughed again, and said, “You damn romantic.”

“Nothing wrong with a little romance, don’t you think?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Jack said sounding defeated. “I haven’t done a single romantic thing my entire life. I’m not exactly the poster child for grand sweeping romantic gestures. What about you, eh? You’re going to ride off into the sunset with her?”

“Hell yes, if she’ll have me. But we just met, so how about I take her out on a couple dates first?”

“Yeah, maybe you should.”

“Samwell is only 45 minutes away—I’m just saying,” Shitty said as he pulled out his phone to send Lardo a quick text.

Jack watched Shitty and smirked. 

“I feel sorry for her. She has no idea what trouble she’s brought into her life.”

“Don’t worry about her. She can absolutely take care of herself and will absolutely kick my ass into place when need be.”

Jack smiled when Shitty’s phone dinged, and Shitty read Lardo’s message with a grin.

“She sent me a picture of a duck wearing sunglasses. Funny. Well, duty calls my friend. I have to head back down to the festival. See you in a bit.”

He walked toward the door and called out without turning back, “Only 45 minutes.”

Jack watched Shitty leave and stared at the door for a few beats. He then pulled out his phone and looked up Samwell on his map app.


	11. Fest Day 2: Saturday Evening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit shorter, but I dove right into the next one which might be done by tomorrow. Psst! I love the next chapter. :D As always, thanks for all your lovely comments and kudos. You are wonderful.

“This is the last night, Bitty. This is it. Has Jack made a real move yet? Made his honorable intentions known?” Lardo said as she sat on the edge of her bed and painted her toenails.

“I mean, we argued about the pronunciation of pecan and about – does that count as courting?”

Lardo looked up and frowned. “No, dude. That does not. Although, for Jack maybe it absolutely does. Also, _courting_? Really, Bits?”

“He’s real sweet, Lards. Like, so awkward and shy – but you can tell that he’s the kind of shy that the second you crack that protective layer there’s a freaky beast there.”

“Bittyward Bitterson! My innocent ears!”

“You know what I mean. I bet he lets loose when you get to know him. And I love that.”

“Love? Dude, okay. Invite me to the wedding, I guess – if he ever builds up the nerve to kiss you. Why don’t you just kiss him?”

Bitty finished ironing his button down and hung it up.

“I’ve given that some thought actually. And the fact of the matter is, I want to be swept off my feet. I want to be chased.”

“Oh, you’ll be _chaste_ all right.”

Bitty rolled his eyes. “Pssh! Look, I just want him to come in and make some sort of big romantic gesture and tell me he thinks I’m the most beautiful boy that’s ever walked the planet—or you know, something like that. Why do I have to do all the work?”

“Because you like him?”

“Yeah, I really, really do, Lards… but aren’t I worth some sort of effort?

“You are, Bitty. You absolutely are,” Lardo said as she smiled at him.

**+++**

Blue, yellow, and white balloons decorated every available inch of the main ballroom for the last evening of the fest.

“I feel like I’m going to prom. Dude, I should have brought you a corsage or some shit,” Ransom said.

“Yeah, well. Next time, bro. Next time,” Holster said.

The Samwell gang walked in greeted by several people, as they were already a well-loved fixture of the festival. They high fived various players, gave Johnson some finger guns, waved bashfully at George, and were welcomed at Tater’s table.

“Friends! Welcome. Come, come and join me at my table.”

“You sound like a Mafioso, Tater,” Thirdy said as he scooted over so Ransom and Holster could sit down.

“So when does the semester start for you all?” Marty asked.

“Two and half weeks. We start practice right away to get ready for the season. It’s gonna be a good one, I can tell,” Holster said.

“Ransom and Holster are co-captains this year. They’re just too modest to say,” Bitty said.

“No they’re not,” Tater said loudly. “Is first thing they say to me.”

“I think that’s their lame attempt at a mating call,” Lardo said as she laughed. Marty handed her glass of white wine.

“Here. Enjoy, kiddo! Don’t tell your mom.”

“Thanks, Dad!”

“So, where’s Jack,” Bitty asked as he took Lardo’s wine and sipped it.

“He said he was coming down. Do you want me to text him?” Shitty asked.

“No, that’s okay.”

“Don’t worry, Bitty. He’ll come,” Shitty said with a wink. “Milady. Care to dance?”

“With you?”

“No, with Marty.” Shitty said jokingly.

“Okay! St. Sebastian, want to dance?”

Marty shrugged. “Sure, kiddo. What else do I have to do right now?”

“Hey!” Shitty called out with a laugh as Marty and Lardo hit the dance floor.

Meanwhile, Jack was at the hotel gift shop hemming and hawing over some roses.

“Do you want one or not?” the teenager at the register asked. “You’ve been straight up staring at those flower for five minutes.”

“Is one red rose too much?”

“Depends on what you wanna to get out of it.”

“I don’t know?”

“Dude, then I hate to break it to you but flowers are probably not the way for you to go,” he said looking annoyed.

Jack studied the flowers and paced. 

“Just call me when you’re ready,” the kid called as he stepped out from behind the register to continue to stack some chips on a shelf.

“What am I doing?” Jack said to himself.

“Deciding if you wanna be a jackass or not,” the kid offered.

“Thanks,” Jack said flatly as he began to walk away. He could hear the thump-thump-thump of the bass from the ballroom.

Jack took a deep breath and walked toward the music.

He caught his reflection on one of the large hallway mirrors as he walked by. He was wearing his vintage Habs jersey with his father’s name and number on it, his jeans, and yellow gym shoes. 

He didn’t let Tater put any crap on his hair, or spray him with any cologne (“Zimmboni, this my brand. Make you smell so good! Bitty man will pounce!”) Jack was just himself. Just Jack Zimmermann. That’s all he could be.

Jack walked into the room and scanned the space as he looked for Bitty. That seemed habitual this weekend. Walk into a room, look for Bitty. Sit at a panel, look for Bitty. This weekend had been all about Eric Richard Bittle and he had no idea coming into this, the completely wonderful turn of events it would have brought about. Still, he was afraid, but by god, he was trying not to be. He was trying so hard.

He found Bitty and instantly Bitty turned to catch his eyes. Bitty smiled and waved and Jack felt his heart skip. Surely he was worth the risk, wasn’t he?

Jack walked across the busy ballroom, weaving in and out between bodies on the dance floor. He fist bumped Tater as they passed each other, and in a few long strides, he stood in front of Bitty.

“Would you like to dance… with me?”

“Yes.”

Jack held out his hand, and Bitty took it.

A slow song Jack didn’t recognize began to play, and Bitty called out excitedly, “I love this song!”

Johnson adjusted his cap and said into the microphone, “This is for all you lovers out there. _Halo_ by Beyoncé.”

**_Remember those walls I built_**  
**_Well, baby, they're tumbling down_**  


Jack put his arms around Bitty’s waist, as Bitty placed his on Jack’s shoulders. They danced for a bit, and then Bitty put his head on Jack’s chest. Jack closed his eyes and smiled as they swayed slowly to the song.

Bitty looked up at Jack and said, “I like your jersey, Jack.”

Jack smiled. “I bought it at the convention. It’s my dad’s number.”

“Yeah, I kind of figured since it had a giant Zimmermann on the back.”

“Oh,” Jack chuckled. “Yeah, I guess so.”

**_Baby, I can see your halo_**  
**_You know you're my saving grace_**

“Bitty?”

“Yeah, Jack.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“You already did, honey.”

“Are you on your tiptoes?”

Bitty paused and then laughed, “Well, it’s not my fault you’re so dang big! Thank goodness you’re not Tater-sized.”

Jack laughed, and said, “Would you like something to drink?”

“Sure.”

They both left the dance floor and walked over to the bar where Jack got them both glasses of sparkling water.

“ _Santé._ ” 

“Cheers,” Bitty said with a smile.

They stood and watched people dance, happy in their comfortable silence, having a good time watching others enjoy themselves.

Then DJ Davey came in and bombastically called out, “We’re going to have a Soul Train line. Everyone form two lines, then dance down the center, two by two. Give us your best dance moves people! Your best!”

The dance floor burst into excited chaos as two lines were formed. Falconers, Falconers staff members, Wellies, festival attendees – everyone joined in.

As the song began, Shitty and Lardo whipped and NaeNae’d their way down the line, while Ransom and Holster repeatedly Hit the Quan. 

And had anyone actually lived until they’d seen a 6’ 4” gregarious Russian do the Shmoney? No, they have not.

Jack shook his head, as Bitty laughed from the line opposite him. Soon it was their turn.

Jack and Bitty danced down the line, and just when people thought they had seen it all, Jack Laurent Zimmermann pulled out a Dab out of nowhere.

“I am shook!” Tater called out.

“Oh my god, Jaaaack!” Bitty laughed. “Where? How?”

Jack’s face burned with embarrassment and laughter. While the rest of the partygoers walked down the dance line, Jack leaned in and whispered into Bitty’s ear.

“Do you want to get out of here, and go get something to eat?”

“Yeah. Let’s go,” he said, eyes shining brightly.

Jack took Bitty by the hand. They exited the noisy ballroom, leaving the music and loudness behind. 

Jack smiled, let go of Bitty’s hand as Bitty asked, “Where are we going?”

“There’s the sports bar downstairs, I guess? But that doesn’t really lend itself to conversation.”

Bitty shook his head, and smiled. 

“I have an idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Soul Train line, it's [real and it's magnificent](http://www.idolator.com/6161621/don-cornelius-soul-train-line-dances).


	12. Fest Day 2: Saturday Late Evening

Jack and Bitty sat on the floor of Bitty’s suite and perused the room service menu. Each one barefoot and relaxed, shoulder to shoulder; arms pressed softly against one another.

“Roasted chicken with herbed carrots, and fingerling potatoes. That sounds yum.”

“Wild-caught salmon grilled on a cedar plank with rice pilaf and broccoli. What exactly is rice pilaf, anyway?”

“Rice… with pilaf mixed in?”

“You could just say you’re not sure,” Jack said with a smile.

“Hush you,” Bitty said as he studied the menu. Jack watched how Bitty’s eyelashes fluttered as he read. 

“Should we get some wine?” Jack asked. He rarely drank -- he surprised himself drinking the vodka Tater offered him last night. But tonight was different, and Jack wanted to share some wine with Bitty.

“Sure. That sounds nice, Jack.”

“Crème brûlée or tiramisu?” Bitty asked.

“Uh, maybe? You can order that if you like, but I probably won’t eat any.”

“Oh, Jack. Live a little and eat the sweets, mister.”

“How about we get a charcuterie plate, too? I love soppressata but hardly get a chance to eat it.”

“We can order anything we want. Let’s splurge,” Bitty said. 

“Yes,” Jack said with a smile.

**+**

Bitty stretched out the extra blanket that was in the closet on the floor. When room service arrived, Bitty instructed them to just leave it on the table.

“All right, we’re having a little living room picnic here. Grab some of the plates, a napkin, and have a seat.”

“I’ve never eaten on a hotel room floor before.”

“There’s a first time for everything, Jack.”

They ordered the chicken, the salmon, a large order of french fries (plain, thank you very much), chocolate cake, charcuterie, a bowl of cut-up fresh fruit, a bottle of Malbec, and roasted brussels sprouts that Jack had insisted they get. 

The two happily ate, not realizing how hungry they actually were.

“My mama would be appalled at my manners right now. I’m basically just shoveling all this in."

“Haha, mine too. The salmon is good. Want to try some?”

“Hell yes,” Bitty said as he leaned over the cut a piece of Jack’s fish. “Mmm, that is good.”

Jack smiled and helped himself to a couple fries.

“So earlier today you said you couldn’t just go home and come out. Why not? If your parents aren’t homophobic, then why don’t you?”

Eric smirked ruefully. 

“Clearly,” Jack continued, taking another fry, “I don’t know your life and it’s none of my business but if they love you—why are you doing that yourself?”

“Yeah, well there’s the rub, isn’t it? Why indeed. I dunno. I’m scared-– for me, for them. What if I’m wrong? What if they reject me? I’d rather live this way than risk losing them.”

“But…” Jack began.

“Yes?”

“But you’re so wonderful. How could anyone reject you?” Jack blushed.

“Yeah, well… you really don’t know me. For all the time we’ve spent together this weekend, we really don’t know the first thing about one another.”

“So, let’s do something about that.”

“How?” Bitty asked.

Jack quickly ate one more fry, then said, “Let’s do a rapid fire confessional sort of thing. I’ll say one fact about myself, and then you. We’ll keep going like that.”

Bitty put down his fork and smiled. “Okay, you first.”

Jack smiled in return, finished chewing and said, “I sing baritone.” 

“I started figure skating when I was seven.” 

“Someone once told me I sound just like Kris Letang.”

“I baked compulsively.”

“I can't play any instruments.”

“I have a semi-secret vlog where I talk about baking and school.”

“I love golf.”

“I can fit into a hockey bag.”

“I love World War II movies.”

“I've bribed my way into classes using baked goods.”

“I love classic rock.”

“I once got so drunk at a party, I lost a shoe.”

“I enjoy taking photographs.”

“I call my grandmother MooMaw.”

“I've had four relationships in my entire life.”

“You’ve only had four relationships in your life?” Bitty asked bringing the game to a halt.

“Oh… yeah. Is that, is that not normal?” Jack asked tentatively as he suddenly looked down at his plate.

“It’s not _abnormal_. Everyone dates -- or doesn’t-- at their own pace. I’m just surprised, that’s all,” Bitty said.

“You are? Why?”

“You’re just so… you _know_ ,” Bitty said as he waved a hand at Jack. “So I figured you would have dated plenty. You know, been around the proverbial ice block.”

Jack frowned, “It’s hard for me to open up. I’m not like you... I have trouble talking to people I don’t know.”

“You talked to me right away. Almost,” Bitty said with a soft smile.

Jack pushed his rice around with his fork. 

“So four people. Compared to my zero, you’re practically Leonardo DiCaprio.”

Jack quickly looked up at Bitty. “Zero? As in none?”

Bitty nodded. “Does almost kissing a rugby player count?”

“So you haven’t… kissed anyone?”

Bitty sighed, “I guess Roscee Peyton counts?”

“Who is Roscee Peyton?” Jack asked with a chuckle.

“She was a skating friend of mine -- we almost considered doing pairs -- and she liked Tanner Sullivan. Anyhow, she wanted to make him jealous so we kissed in front of him at her birthday party. We were 13.”

“How was it?”

“Wet,” Bitty said with a frown. “Neither one of us knew what we were doing, she ran her hands through my hair like we’d seen in _Sex and the City_ \-- we used to secretly watch it in her house every week. So I guess that counts? Or does it since we were just pretending?”

“Always helping people, eh? Hmm... we can say it doesn’t count.”

“And you?” Bitty asked nervously.

“Kissed people or whatever? Um, Kent, Kate, Samantha, Camilla -- those are the four for _everything_.” 

“Well, thank you for sharing all that with me, especially since I told you about my lack of history.”

“The number doesn’t matter. What matters is what you feel, and that what you feel is right for you. Right?”

Bitty nodded. “Right,” he said and continued to eat his chicken, as he felt his cheeks burn.

**+**

“This movie is morbid,” Jack said as they watched _Heathers_. “I don’t like anyone in it.”

“You're really not supposed to, I guess. It’s so very…”

Jack yawned. They had moved onto the large couch in the living room, and brought the charcuterie plate, fruit and wine to the coffee table with them.

“We can watch something else if you want,” Bitty said.

“No, this is fine,” Jack said as he rubbed his eyes and settled deeper into his throw pillow. Each one rested their heads on opposite ends of the couch. 

Bitty reached for the remote and flipped through the channels. He stopped when he saw _Captain America_.

“Oh! Here’s a World War II movie.”

Jack watched for a moment and said, “I don’t think this actually counts, Bitty.”

“Of course it does, plus Chris Evans? Yes, please!”

“You like him?”

“Well, I wouldn’t kick him out of my bed for eating crackers in it.”

Jack harrumphed. 

“I guess if you’re into that sort of thing,” Jack said as he waved dismissively at the television.

“Ha! ‘That sort of thing.’ Jack, you two are basically body twins.”

“Oh.”

“But you have much gentler eyes.”

“Oh,” he said again not knowing quite how to respond to that.

Bitty sat up and looked over at Jack. “So, you like blonds. What else?”

“What else?”

“Yeah.”

Jack fiddled with a loose thread on the pillow, avoiding Bitty’s gaze. 

“People shorter than me, I guess. Smart people. People who are okay with me being quiet -- because I am. Frequently. Athletic, passionate people who give their passions 110%. I don’t like half-assed anything.”

“You like the whole ass,” Bitty said with a smirk.

“Smartasses. I guess I like those too. Who knew?” Jack said as he glanced at Bitty and then lowering his gaze once again.

Bitty turned back to the TV with a smug look on his face.

“And you?” Jack said. “Euh…what’s your type? I mean if Captain America isn’t available that is.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s straight and my number one rule is never fall for a straight boy. Save yourself a lot of head -- and heart -- aches, you know? So I can look but not touch.”

Jack leaned over and took his wine glass from the table, he motioned for Bitty to continue as he took a sip.

“I like big strong men with kind hearts and gentle eyes. Someone who will bake with me, and eat everything I make. Lord, I love a boy who can eat.”

Jack subconsciously took another piece of prosciutto from the charcuterie plate.

“Someone I can laugh with, who isn’t afraid to act silly. Someone who is nice to children and grandmas. Someone who is smart as hell, and sweet as heaven -- and if they want to make out with me all the time, then that’s just an amazing perk, isn’t it?”

The two stared at each other silently and Jack finally spoke.

“I hope you find him.”

“Me too…”

**+++**

“A gardener. I wanted to be a gardener when I was a little boy.”

“Like a farmer?” Jack asked.

“No, a gardener. I wanted to plant berries and wear a giant sunhat like my MooMaw’s,” Bitty said sleepily.

“So your childhood dream job stemmed more in the aesthetics instead of the actual job itself.”

“It was a really great hat.”

Jack laughed. 

“And you? Hockey was always your true love?”

“Actually, no.”

“No? Do tell!”

“I wanted to be a lighthouse keeper.”

“As in the person who lives and works in a lighthouse?”

Jack nodded. “Yep. There was a lighthouse we used to go see every summer after hockey season was over. The Île Sainte-Hélène lighthouse, and I loved it. The first time I saw it, I didn’t think I’d ever seen anything as beautiful as that lighthouse. I must have been five or so.”

Bitty watched Jack intently as he spoke.

“It was decommissioned in 1959, and has been deteriorating since then but I still thought it was beautiful. Such an important job it had at one point, to guide people home. Bring them in safely. I wanted to help bring people home. Help them be happy, you know?”

Bitty smiled, and inhaled deeply. This boy.

“Hold on, Bits. What is that? Don’t think I didn’t notice you come back from your bedroom with something under your shirt and then stuff it under the pillow.”

Bitty’s eyes grew wide. 

“What? I don’t have anything.”

Jack suddenly lunged forward, and Bitty began to scream and cackle. 

“Stop! Stop! Stop!” He kicked at Jack who laughed and sat back.

Jack smirked at him and raised an eyebrow.

“Fine. Jack Laurent meet Señor Bun. Bun, Jack.” 

Bitty held out a small, well-worn and clearly loved stuffed bunny.

“I’ve had him since birth and wherever I go, he goes.”

Jack poked the bunny’s tummy.

“ _Bonjour, Monsieur Lapin._ ”

Bitty sighed. “Jack, clearly he only speaks Spanish. Come on, get with the program.”

“A million apologies, Señor.”

“He accepts,” Bitty said as he hugged the bunny. 

Jack couldn’t help but be charmed. Damn it all if every single thing Bitty did, didn’t charm him. Jack smiled and watched as Bitty gently placed Señor Bun on the couch.

**+++**

Lardo returned to the suite around 4:30 and froze when she walked in. The television was on as it played some strange infomercial, and asleep on the couch were Jack and Bitty. Each one had their heads on opposite ends of the couch, their feet piled on top of one another.

She tiptoed to the bedroom, grabbed her pajamas, took her toothbrush from the bathroom and quickly exited, making her way next door to Ransom and Holster’s room.

Lardo paused at the door, took another look at the two dozing peacefully and whispered, “Fucking cute doofs,” then closed the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no! Tomorrow is the last day of the festival! What will happen? Will these two finally make their intentions known to each other? Meep!


	13. Fest Day 3: Sunday Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack, you emotional goon.

Jack woke up somewhat discombobulated as he momentarily forgot where he was. He exhaled loudly and stretched his arms out and then realized Bitty’s feet were firmly planted in his lap. Over the course of the night, Jack had wrapped his hands around Bitty’s ankles. 

Jack stared at his hands -- as if there were a separate entity from the rest of his body, the rest of his mind -- how they remained around Bitty’s ankles. He stared at the way Bitty’s long slender toes tapered, the tiny twitch of his pinky as he slept, his high arches, the soft downy hair that covered his toes. Jack let go and sat up slowly, not wanting to wake Bitty. He looked at his watch; it was almost 7:30.

Bitty slept so soundly, Jack couldn’t help but continue to watch him; the way his chest rose softly, the slight flutter of his eyelashes. Then Jack felt he was being creepy -- again -- and gently slid out of the couch.

He got up, padded to the door, took his shoes, and quietly left Bitty who at the moment was happily dreaming of a beautiful Canadian boy with blue eyes.

Jack made it to his room and quietly inserted the keycard so as not to wake Tater. When he walked in, Tater was awake sitting in bed drinking coffee -- much to Jack’s chagrin. 

“Look what cat bring home,” Tater said with a smile. “Where you been, Zimmboni?”

“I had dinner with Bitty,” Jack said as he took off his shoes.

“How many courses?” Tater asked as he wagged his eyebrows.

“Tater, no,” Jack said “It was just dinner and then we fell asleep watching TV on the couch. Nothing happened.”

“Is sad or sweet? I can’t decide.”

“I see you were able to order coffee for yourself,” Jack said as he pulled off his jersey, and threw it on the bed.

“It was hardship, but I managed. I may have nightmares about it later, though.” Tater said with a wink.

“How are you so high maintenance?” Jack asked. 

“Only child. My parents call me their Little Ice Prince,” Tater said nonchalantly. “So you have nice dinner with B?”

“Yeah, it was,” Jack said softly.

“So when are you going to be seeing him again?”

“I don’t know, Tater.”

“What? Why?” Tater asked sitting up straighter.

“For one, he’s starting school in a couple weeks. And then hockey season begins not long after -- and then what about when _our_ season begins? You know how I get, Tater. Bitty… doesn’t deserve that. He doesn’t need me snapping at him for no reason.”

Tater remained silent and studied Jack. He put his coffee down on the nightstand and then said, “ _Nyet_! Zimmboni, you are big idiot if you are going to let fear stop your heart.”

“I’m going to shower. Please, just drop it okay. And don’t mention anything to the rest of the team. Don’t think I don’t know how gossipy you can be,” Jack said pointing at Tater.

Jack sighed, and walked into the bathroom.

“ _Bòzhe mòi_ ,” Tater said with a frown, and picked up his coffee.

**+++**

Lardo knocked softly.

“Yes?” Bitty asked excitedly hoping that maybe Jack had returned. Maybe he’d just gone to his room to shower and change. Maybe…

“Is it safe to come in?” Lardo asked.

Bitty smiled and sat on his bed. He had just gotten out of the shower. 

“Sure, come in.”

“So… how was your night?” Lardo asked as she sat at the foot of the bed.

“Nice. I mean, nothing happened. We just had dinner and chatted most of the night. Lards, he’s so sweet.” Bitty said as he towel dried his hair. “He’s just so… sweet. And now, I’m not sure what’s going on.”

“Maybe he had to leave to get ready for that breakfast thingy?”

“Without waking me up or leaving me a note? Rude.”

Lardo shrugged. “I speak from experience when I say that you look like a damn angel when you’re sleeping. So maybe he didn’t have the heart to wake you?”

“Boo. Lame.”

“Regardless, dude, we’ll see him at the breakfast so get dressed, you.”

Bitty nodded. 

Maybe Jack just wanted to freshen up and get ready for the breakfast and Bitty was reading too much into his Irish exit. He supposed he would find out.

**+++**

Jack went downstairs to the vendor tables before the VIP/Player breakfast began. He strolled the aisles and watched as they set up their wares for the morning, and nodded at him as he walked by. He was thankful for the relative quiet this time afforded him, to be alone with this thoughts.

He visited the photo seller’s table again and saw another photo of his father, standing young and proud, hauling his first Stanley Cup over his head. 

Bad Bob had accomplished so much by the time he was 21 -- and with much less drama. He had already won three Cups when he was younger than Jack. Jack frowned and walked away.

The amount of expectation he felt at times was staggering. So much rested on his shoulders. Was it real or imagined, he knew not, but as Jack was about to enter his second season in the NHL (A rookie no more!) the weight was even more crushing.

And where would Bitty fit into all of this? Was there a place for him?

Bitty, who had his own life to live filled with his own dreams and unique set of expectations, had so much ahead of him. How could Jack ask him for anything more, when he already knew he’d have difficulty giving _all_ of himself? 

It wasn’t fair. It was selfish, in fact. 

Jack sighed and continued to walk.

**+++**

When Jack entered the ballroom, he saw Tater wave at him. He noticed Bitty, Lardo, Shitty, Ransom and Holster were all at his table and had clearly saved a space for him.

George happened to walk by, and Jack quickly took her by the arm. 

“George, can I sit at your table?”

She frowned momentarily and said, “Sure Jack. I’ll save you a spot.”

Jack made his way to Bitty’s table, and Bitty instantly smiled.

“We saved you a seat, Jacko,” Shitty said.

“I came by to let you know George wants me to sit with her. She needs to discuss something with me.”

Shitty balked and said, “Right now? I call bullshit.”

“Hard same,” Tater added.

Jack looked down, then back up at Bitty. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry.”

Bitty smiled, though his eyes clearly weren’t in it, “No worries, Jack. See you after the breakfast?”

“Yeah, sure. Absolutely.”

**+**

All during breakfast, Jack could feel Shitty and Tater as they glared at him from their table. Jack’s phone beeped. He took a quick peek.

 **Shitty** : _What the ever loving fuck, Jack! You cannot tell me George needed to speak with you right this minute._

Jack read the message and put his phone in silent mode.

DJ Davey entered the room with a microphone in one hand, and a cup of coffee in the other.

“Good morning, Falcs Fest!”

Everyone gave a lukewarm applause. 

“Welcome to our penultimate event of the weekend! I hope everyone is enjoying their coffee and bennies.”

“I kind of want to punch that guy,” Lardo said, “Anyone else?”

The entire table raised their hand.

“After breakfast, we’ll jump right into the closing ceremonies which will take place in the main ballroom. Just a quick thank you to the Providence Hilton for being super attentive this weekend and helping everything run as smooth as silk. Thanks to 92 Pro-FM, playing all the hits, all the time! Thanks to George Martin and her staff, thanks to the Falconers, and YOU!”

Bitty rolled his eyes and Lardo smiled at him. Jack watched from his table and felt his chest clench.

“Enjoy the rest of your breakfast!” DJ Davey said as he sat down at a table with DJ Johnson and some Falconers.

Jack glanced quickly at Shitty and Tater who shook their heads. Tater had his arms folded in front of him. Jack stared at his eggs and ate quietly while the rest of the table idly chatted.

**+++**

The closing ceremony was nothing more than the players being introduced as they had been during the opening ceremony. Each one walked across the stage and waved.

DJ Davey called out, “Again, thanks to 92 Pro-FM, playing all the hits, all the time! Thanks to George Martin and her staff, thanks to the Falconers, and of course thanks to YOUUUUU!”

DJ Johnson began to play _Howlin’ for You_ by the Black Keys, and DJ Davey danced across the stage.

George then took the microphone and said, “I want to thank all the guys for being here this weekend. I know they were away from their families and friends, but let me tell you -- I’ve spoken with them and the consensus has been that they had a blast this weekend. So thank you! Thank you for coming, for supporting us -- none of this would be possible without you, the fans.”

The guys then circled George and propped her up onto their shoulders. She laughed as they bounced her up and down. The Samwell gang clapped and dance, and Bitty watched Jack on stage. Jack looked at him and offered the softest of smiles.

After the ceremony, everyone began to pour out and start the mad rush to check out of the hotel.

Bitty waded through the crowd to find Jack. By now, Tater gave Jack the silent treatment. But when Tater saw Bitty, he smiled and brought him in for a giant bearhug. 

“I’ll see you. Soon, B!” he said into Bitty hair.

“I know, Tater,” Bitty said as he melted into the hug. 

“Zimmboni is over there,” Tater said and waved behind him. “Go talk to him.”

“Thanks, Tater. I will.”

Bitty walked away and heard Ransom and Holster yell out, “Hey!” as Tater approached.

“This is like beach scene from _Grease_ , only this is no goodbye,” he said to the two of them.

“Dude,” Ransom called out, “You couldn’t get rid of us even if you tried.”

“Yes!” Tater replied as the three huddled together.

Shitty and Lardo had already exchanged numbers, as well as a number of kisses that weekend.

“So, call me -- you know, when you feel like it,” Shitty said as he stood offering Lardo a cup of coffee.

“Well, no guarantees but…” she replied and then smirked. Shitty leaned in and kissed Lardo gently on the lips, as she smiled into it.

Jack stood near the back of the room when Bitty finally reached him. 

“Hey,” Jack said.

“Hey, yourself,” Bitty said.

“Do you want to go up to the terrace?” Jack asked.

Bitty smiled, “Sure.”

They rode the elevator in silence and made their way outside.

“I can’t believe the weekend is over already,” Bitty said. “It went by much too fast.”

“Yes, it was crazy, huh? But fun. Fun,” Jack said softly as he smiled at Bitty.

The two stood and contemplated one another quietly, and then Jack spoke.

"You're heading out soon, aren't you?" 

"Yep, I was just about to go back to my room to make sure we didn’t forget anything before our Lyft comes. Y'all look ready to go, too. Everyone anxious to get back to their real lives?"

Jack nodded and said, “Seems like. So… I guess that's it, isn't it?" 

"Yeah," Bitty said, eyes filled with disappointment. 

“Oh, I euh… have something for you.”

Jack held out his hand and handed Bitty a small box. It was an OYO Jack Zimmermann figure. 

“It seems kind of conceited to give you a toy of me, eh? Sorry. I just… I just wanted you to remember me, I guess.” 

“I… I couldn’t forget you if I tried,” Bitty said softly as he looked at the box in his hands. “Jack... I. I guess the next time I'll see you will be on TV, huh? 

Jack smiled. “Maybe you can come to a game someday.”

“Yeah, sure. Maybe,” Bitty said quietly. 

“I had a good time this weekend, Bitty.”

“Me too, Jack. Me too,” Bitty said and tried to fight back the tears.

Jack stood quietly, wanting to say something. 

He wanted to explain his rationale, why he was doing this, why he needed to do this -- for Bitty’s sake as well as his own. And he wanted so much to let Bitty know that he meant something to him. That this weekend meant something. 

It meant the world to Jack, but instead he stood silently until Bitty spoke once again.

"Well, I gotta get outta here before you make me late for my Lyft.” 

"Hah…” Jack said as his gaze swept across Bitty’s face. “Well, see you, Bitty."

"Bye, Jack." 

"Bye, Bitty. It's been great hanging out with you."

Bitty smiled, eyes full of sadness, and he turned to walk toward the elevator. Jack watched as he pressed the down button once, and then walked into the elevator. 

The doors closed slowly, and just like that, that glorious sunshine was gone from Jack’s life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't be upset. Look! Here's a picture of Tater's Dolce & Gabbana ad:  
> 
> 
>  
> 
> Bòzhe mòi = Oh my god.
> 
> Come say hi and yell at me over on [Tumblr](http://wrathofthestag.tumblr.com)


	14. After the Fest: Mother Knows Best

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter, everyone! This is it. I can't believe it's almost done. Eeee!

Bitty sat in his suite, and tried to compose himself. There were ten minutes left until official check out time, so he took those ten minutes to pull himself together. He washed his face and stared at his reflection in the mirror.

How could he have been so wrong? How could he have misread everything that had happened that weekend?

“Never again, Eric. Never again.”

He dried his face, held his head high, grabbed his bag and walked out the room.

The Jack Zimmermann figure sat on the bed, purposely left behind.

**+++**

The frogs came back to Samwell, much to Bitty’s relief. It gave him something to focus on, rather than the constant heartache and disappointment that had made residence deep within his chest.

Bitty doted on Chowder, played mediator to Nursey and Dex, answered all of Tango’s questions, and made pies for any and everyone. Luckily, the preseason was starting so he had that to occupy himself with as well. 

Still, every now and then Bitty would listen to the radio and an ad for the Bruins would come on which would make him think of Providence which would make him think of _He Who Shall Not Be Named_.

Bitty would be riding his bike across campus and would see some jerk playing hacky sack wearing a Falconers jersey, and he all he wanted to do was to shove that damn ball down his throat. Hello! The 90s called and they want their game back, you jerk!

He would talk to his mama on the phone and when she’d ask how things were going, he’d say everything was “fine and dandy.” 

Only it wasn’t. It really wasn’t.

Time moved on as it had the tendency to do, and Bitty dove into any and everything as though his life depended on it. (And often, he felt as if that were the case.)

Sometimes at night, Bitty would stare at the moon from his bedroom window. He’d get lost studying the various ridges and bumps, how it glowed and seemed to pulsate. And for a moment, he’d would wonder if Jack might also be looking at the moon at that very moment. In that instant, he would feel connected to Jack once again. 

Soon, Bitty began to sleep with his shades pulled.

Ransom and Holster maintained communication with Tater but were sensitive to Bitty’s situation, so they primarily met up with him in Providence. The same with Lardo and Shitty -- although Lardo had stated emphatically that dating “or whatever” was not a high priority in her life at the moment. It was her last year at Samwell and that took precedence over everything else.

“I like him, and all -- but he’s not my end all, be all. You know? My work, my life; that comes first, Bitty.”

Bitty admired her fortitude. And when Bitty took to the ice, he carried a bit of Lardo’s strength in his heart, his mama’s kindness in his soul, and let his feet and his head guide him -- and the memory of Jack Zimmermann had no place there.

**+++**

Jack came home and dropped his hockey bag onto the hallway floor. He stepped out of his shoes and tossed his jacket into the corner somewhere. He snatched his Falconers snapback from his head and deposited it on the hallway table. 

He walked to the kitchen, washed his hands, opened the fridge and took out a chicken breast, some broccoli, and a package of brown rice from the freezer. Working on autopilot, Jack put broccoli in the steamer and on the stove, added salt and pepper to the chicken, sliced it and put it on the broiler, and threw the bag of rice into the microwave for three minutes.

He walked over and plopped himself onto the couch where he sat, silent and still, mind empty. There was no hockey, no ice, no calls he had to return to his mother, no appointments to make with his therapist, no oil in his truck that needed to be changed -- all there was was complete silence.

Except for when Bitty would creep in and invade his personal mind space...

_“You’re kind of sassy. Anyone ever tell you that?”_

_“Actually, no.”_

_“Well they should, Sass L. Sassermann.”_

A flash of blond hair, a twinkling brown eye -- they would come in and startle Jack back into consciousness. 

The oven beeped and Jack ran his hands down his face.

“Fuck,” he said to no one in particular and everyone in the world.

He got up and walked over to the broiler to check the doneness of the chicken. When it was ready, he’d plate his food. It was the same every time: a protein, a vegetable, and a carb. He poured himself some water, took his plate and sat at his dining room table, where he would sit in complete silence and eat his dinner. 

Often, he’d forget to turn the lights on. The evening crept in while Jack ate, only to realize later he’d be sitting in the dark.

Jack’s days and nights continued by rote: wake, stretch, eat a banana, run, drink a protein shake, practice/train, lunch, train, home, dinner, read, sleep. Variety came in the form of game days. Other than that, the song remained the same. Lather, rinse, repeat. 

“You know, you’re being really stupid and unreasonable. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you act this way, like fucking _ever_ ,” Shitty said.

“I’m through talking about this with you, Shits.” Jack said.

“Even if you’re being a total bonehead? Like a major, idiotic bonehead?”

“Shitty…”

“Brah! You know I love you, and all I want is for you to be happy.”

Jack didn’t know why he was being so stubborn about it. Wasn’t this just better for everyone involved, after all? 

Tater tried talking to Jack once, and was met with such a stony reception, he gave up. 

“Is your funeral, Zimmboni. If you want nothing but hockey in your life, that’s your choice and I respect your decision.”

“Thanks, Tater.” 

Jack could see Tater lied through his teeth, but he appreciated the lie nonetheless.

One morning, he sat in the Falconers lounge eating a PBJ (The thickness of it stuck in his throat. Everything was a chore, really. Even eating for fuck’s sake.) and he decided to google Bitty. He’d found his Facebook page, which was set to private, and he’d found his Twitter.

Jack sort of understood Twitter, had an account that the social media department made him set up but never used it. 

Bitty smiled brightly in his profile photo. He was wearing a blue and white striped t-shirt and stood next to Holster. A photo of what Jack presumed was the ice at Faber was his header photo. 

Jack scrolled through Bitty’s feed and blanched as he read.

 **@omgcheckpls** : I had to call my Moomaw for reassurance after I burned a pie. #whatthewhat 

**@omgcheckpls** : One day at a time is all you can do. #lovesucks

 **@omgcheckpls** : I need to invest in blackout shades. I don’t need to be looking at the damn moon anymore. #unbreakmyheart

 **@omgcheckpls** : As the great Queen Bey once said, “I'm a human being and I fall in love and sometimes I don't have control of every situation.” 

**@omgcheckpls** : Found this quote on Pinterest: “One day, I hope you look back at what we had and regret every single thing you did to let it end.” Interesting.

 **@omgcheckpls** : When you’re flipping through channels and see a team you really didn’t want to see. #ESPNoThankYou

Jack could barely breathe, was Bitty talking about him? Was Bitty actually using the L word _and_ talking about Jack? Was Bitty as miserable as Jack had been all of these weeks?

Jack continued reading.

 **@omgcheckpls** : I finally shared some very important news with my parents. I’m crying tears of happiness, y’all. #loveisloveislove #myparentsareamazing

Jack inhaled sharply. Bitty finally came out to his parents -- and by all accounts, it seemed to have gone well. Very well. Jack smiled broadly, the first real smile he’d had since, well, since the festival. He was so happy for Bitty. He really was. 

Then he noticed Bitty’s tweets stopped for a while. The latest and last one simply read:

 **@omgcheckpls** : Today was the first time in a long time I felt… okay? Things are finally feeling good again. Thank heaven for small favors. #nolookingback 

Jack felt his stomach drop. Bitty was moving forward, maybe it was time for Jack to try in earnest as well. It was Jack’s decision, after all, so maybe he should finally commit and try to forget Eric Richard Bittle.

**+++**

“Sweetheart, I’m just worried about you. You hardly call, unless I practically harass you to. Your father is starting to think you’re purposely trying to avoid us. Is… everything all right?”

Jack knew what his mother meant.

“Yes. I’m not abusing my medication if that’s what you two are wondering,” he said brusquely. 

He could hear Alicia’s inhale on the other line.

Jack sighed and said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh.”

“No, I’m sorry if I was implying anything -- I just… we worry about you.”

“Well don’t. I’m fine,” Jack said.

Alicia remained silent, and Jack felt the weight of her concern on his shoulders.

“I have a couple days off in two weeks. Would you like to come visit?”

“Would you like me to come visit?”

Jack exhaled quietly and looked around his dark quiet apartment. He nodded even though she couldn’t see him, and then said, “Yes. I would like that a lot, maman.”

**+++**

The first thing Alicia did when she arrived was open Jack’s windows.

“Sweetheart, it’s like a musky tomb in here,” she said as she pulled back all the curtains and opened the door to the balcony. The late October air was slightly brisk but instantly brought some much-needed freshness into the apartment. 

She took a semi-dead ficus from Jack’s balcony and brought it to the kitchen sink to water, leaving a trail of leaves behind her.

Jack stood by his counter and quietly watched. 

“Do you want me to cook us some lunch, or do you want to go out?” Alicia asked as she plucked some dead leaves from the ficus.

Jack watched his mother, her blonde hair backlit from the noon sun streaming into the apartment. It appeared like a halo, and Jack felt his heart fill with love for his mother who had dropped everything, traveled in from another country, just to make sure he was okay.

“How about I take you Hemenway’s? We can eat lunch overlooking the water, and I can show Providence how lovely and kind my mother is.”

Alicia blushed and smiled, “You big schmoozer! Fine, but I’ll want wine, coffee _and_ dessert, too.”

Jack nodded and smiled.

**+++**

After lunch, Alicia and Jack walked around downtown Providence perusing the various small shops on Westminster Street. Alicia had her arm intertwined with Jack as they chatted about nothing and everything.

Alicia was telling Jack about a potential upcoming project, and Jack listened intently. His mother no longer worked in front of the camera. Instead, she preferred to work behind it. Lately, she had been producing various independent films and was contemplating starting a film festival for women filmmakers.

Jack admired his mother’s dedication to her career but also marveled at how she managed to still be there for him and his father.

“So it’s a smaller budget film, but the enthusiasm -- that’s what’s so great. There’s such passion and dedication from the crew that I admire so much.”

“That’s awesome, maman. I hope it all works out,” Jack said.

They stopped at a small shop called Candle & Thyme which appeared to have housewares and kitchen supplies.

“Oh, can we go in here? Your father somehow broke his wooden lemon reamer, so I’d like to get him another.”

“Sure,” Jack said as he held the door open for his mother. 

Jack busied himself walking around the small shop while his mother looked for the reamer. He passed various spatulas, rolling pins, salt and pepper shakers and then came across a display of oven mitts. Front and center were a large pile of Falconers oven mitts.

Jack paused and took one from the display. Instantly, he smiled.

“All right, sweetheart. Done and done!” she said as approached with a gift bag in her hand.

“Jack? What is it?”

Jack gripped the oven mitt, then turned to Alicia. 

“Maman, I have to tell you something…”

**+++**

The two sat on a bench in Burnside Park, cup of coffee in hand.

“And you just let him go?”

“Yes,” Jack said softly.

“And you think you might be in love with him?”

Jack nodded and looked at his coffee.

Alicia sighed. “Good lord, what is it with you damn dramatic emotionally stunted Zimmermann men?”

“Maman!”

“Jack, I’m sorry, but you have got to be shitting me, sweetheart!”

Jack stared, eyes wide at this mother. He can’t recall a time he had ever heard his mother swear.

“Do you know, there was a time your father and I broke up for a while because he didn’t want to tie me down to his busy life. He thought it wouldn’t ‘be fair’ to me because he could be so tunnel visioned when it came to hockey,” Alicia said with exasperation.

Jack remained quiet.

“And I thought maybe he just wanted to see other people but was being too cavalier to tell me so. So we broke up. We were apart for almost two months -- and we were both miserable. You know what made me the angriest? That your father made a decision about _my_ life on my behalf. Who gave him the right to make that decision for me, or my heart?”

“So why did he do it?”

“Because he was scared,” she said, then softened her tone. “Because he had never been in love.”

"Oh..." Jack said and looked at his mother who smiled and caressed his face.

“Sweetheart, don’t let fear make a decision for you -- or for that boy.”

**+++**

When Jack returned to the arena for practice, he marched right into the cafeteria. Everyone chatted and shot the shit as they finished up team breakfast. Poots and Snowy flicked Cheerios at one another; Tater danced in the middle of the room to whatever was on his phone; Thirdy showed Marty a picture of their new dog; Guy read the paper. 

“I...” Jack said and cleared his throat.

The guys paused what they were doing and looked up at Jack.

“I need your help with something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ladies and gentlemen: Alicia Zimmermann, the _real_ MVP.
> 
> I had a friend tell me she was so angry at Jack in the last chapter. Dudes, me too -- but like I told her, sometimes you have to kill your darlings to move the story ahead. I adore JLZ, he's my favorite, but he needed to be a bonehead for a bit to grow and move the story along.
> 
> One more chapter, y'all!


	15. And the Day After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it! What a great month it has been working on this and sharing it with you all. Thanks to everyone who read this fic, and commented. Your support meant the world, and kept me going. <333

Jack and Alicia spent the next two days talking about love and expectations; life and dreams; hope and wanting. Hockey was never mentioned once.

One evening, the two sat on the sofa while Jack’s favorite childhood casserole baked in the oven.

“When you were born, I thought, ‘This is it. This is what it means to love someone unconditionally.’ You were such a quirky looking baby, but I thought you were the most beautiful being that ever lived.”

Jack smiled and said, “Quirky? Wow, you must really love me. I’ve seen the photos, maman. Quirky isn’t exactly the word I’d use.”

“Well, I thought you were beautiful,” Alicia said as she laughed softly. “So… tell me about your Eric.”

Jack sighed. “He’s not mine -- I definitely made sure of that.”

“It’s not too late. I’ve already told you, sweetheart. It’s never too late.”

“I know, maman. Bitty… how to describe Bitty?” Jack said dreamily. “He’s about 5’ 7”, lithe but obviously strong and athletic. He has blond hair, a gorgeous smile, and biggest most beautiful brown eyes I’ve ever seen. But his appearance doesn’t matter -- it’s just an added bonus. He’s thoughtful, kind and sweet, and when he looks at me, I feel like he just… _knows_ me. You know?”

Alicia smiled, and brushed Jack’s hair away from his face as he continued. 

“The first time I saw him, I actually held my breath. It was like seeing a ray of sunshine come to life. I know that sounds stupid, but that’s what it felt like. And then when we spoke, he was fearless and funny and treated me like a real person. Not like Bad Bob’s son -- or like he wanted something from me. He just talked _with_ me.”

“That’s wonderful, isn’t it?”

Jack nodded and brought his knees to his chest as he relaxed into the sofa. “And I could talk to him, and joke with him, and you know how hard it is for me to talk to people I don’t know.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

“But it was never like that with Bitty.”

Alicia sighed, “Not to beat a dead horse, Jack, but why did you let him go?”

Jack shrugged. “I know. I’m stupid.”

“Jack, no. Well -- maybe a little -- but I see the kind of pressure you’re under, and that clouds your thinking with all things non-hockey. A lot of it is self-imposed, though. You know your papa and I love you, no matter what.”

Jack nodded.

“So it’s okay to have more in your life; to _want_ more. You can let yourself have this, Jack. You deserve to be happy and you have to stop punishing yourself for whatever reasons you think you deserve.”

Jack remained silent as he let his mother’s words wash over him. 

That evening, he slept the best he had in weeks.

 

While they drove to the airport, Jack and Alicia chatted eagerly about how he could try to reach out to Bitty.

“A singing telegram?” Alicia offered teasingly.

“Maman.”

“Strippergram?”

“Maman!”

“Just promise me that whatever you do, it’ll be grand. After what you put poor Eric through, that boy deserves something big.”

Jack pulled over to the curb and retrieved his mother’s bag from the trunk. 

“Call me when you land?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

“Thanks for coming, maman. Send papa my love and thank you, for everything.”

Alicia pulled Jack in for a hug and gave him a kiss.

“I love you, my sweet boy.”

“Love you, too, maman.”

As she began to walk away, she turned and called out, “Oh, Jack! I left you a little something back at your place. Some inspiration,” she said with a wink.

 

When Jack returned to his apartment, he found a book waiting for him on the kitchen counter. It was a copy of his mother’s favorite: _Persuasion_ by Jane Austen.

Jack had never read it before, but he knew Alicia had many, many, many times. He recalled several copies of it throughout their home while he was growing up. This particular copy was dog-eared and heavily annotated. It smelled like his mother; like gardenias and jasmine.

Inside was a note from Alicia:

> _Jack,_
> 
> _This story is about love and loss, and waiting. It’s about never giving up hope and finding the right moment to reconnect again. I hope you find your right moment to reconnect again very soon._
> 
> _xoxo,_
> 
> _Maman_

Jack leafed through the pages, then sat down on the couch and began to read out loud, “Sir Walter Elliot, of Kellynch Hall, in Somersetshire, was a man who, for his own amusement, never took up any book but the Baronetage…”

**+++**

And so, Jack walked into the Falconers cafeteria and let himself have this. He opened himself up to love and to his friends, and took a leap of faith hoping Bitty would want to catch him.

“I need your help with something,” he told his friends.

 

When practice and a team meeting were over, the guys walked to The Rose and the Crown for an early dinner and a drink; everyone eager to know what exactly was going on with Jack. 

As they headed to the gastropub, Jack looked at the Hilton across the street which served as both a reminder and a cheerleader in his endeavor.

Snowy, Tater, Poots, Guy, Thirdy, and Jack crammed themselves into a round booth as Marty went to the bar to order a pitcher of beer. Nate would probably have their heads for this, but the guys all agreed this called for some liquid courage and greasy burgers.

“We all knew something was definitely up with you kiddo, but Tater told us all to drop it,” Marty said. 

Tater nodded. “I said, let Zimmboni be miserable if that’s what Zimmboni wanted. Idiot.”

Jack frowned, “Euh… thanks, I guess?”

“Yeah, you were even gloomier than usual,” Guy said. “And coming from me, that’s really fucking saying something.”

“So what’s up, Jack? What can we help you with?” Poots asked.

“Do you remember that guy I met during Falcs Fest?”

Snowy jumped up and pumped his fist. “BITTY! I fucking knew it! You two really seemed to hit it off so well that weekend. Dude, I was kind of bummed when nothing came of it.”

“That’s because Zimmboni break it off,” Tater said waving in Jack’s direction.

The guys all exchanged glances, and Marty who had since returned said, “Why Jack?”

Jack shrugged, “Why does anyone do anything? Because they’re scared, they’re nervous. A myriad of reasons.”

“Stupidity,” Tater added with a nod.

“Yeah, a little bit of that, too. At the end of the weekend I basically just said it was nice hanging out with him and goodbye.”

Jack was met with a number of “Dudes!” and one very loud, “What the fuck, Zimmermann?”

“But, I want to change all that! I… I want to see him again. I want to smile again -- and make him smile. He makes me happy, and I just want a chance to try to make him happy. I need to show him and do something!”

Poots and Snowy bounced in the booth as they punched each other in the arm. 

“After all this time, he's finally learned to love!” Poots squealed in a faux British accent.

Tater took a bite of his double cheeseburger and said, “You get phone number, yes?” 

“No,” Jack replied with embarrassment.

“Zimmermann,” Thirdy called out. “You’re hopeless! You didn’t once ask him for his number that entire weekend? And don’t think we haven’t noticed you playing The Smiths all the time in your SUV, man. Sitting in the parking lot, mopey as hell.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

“No problem. I call my guys, they get me B’s number. So what you want to be doing, Zimmboni?” Tater asked.

“I’m not sure, but it has to be something big. Something that says---”

“Sorry for being a fucking asshole. I love you. I’ve been a miserable shit without you. My teammates all want to murder me. Let’s get married?” They all turned to look at Snowy who shrugged and said, “I’m just spitballin’ here.”

“You should totally show up at one of his games! Surprise him and shit!” Thirdy said with excitement.

“Yes!” Marty added.

Guy pulled out his phone and typed something in. Then he slammed the table with his fist and said, “There is a motherfucking home game at Samwell, TONIGHT.”

“Tonight?” Jack replied with fear on his face.

“Hell yes, tonight and don’t you start, Zimmermann,” Snowy shouted as he looked at Guy’s phone. “The game is at 6:30!”

“What time is it now?” Jack asked.

“Almost 4:45.”

“Okay,” Tater said. “Here’s deal. We finish eating, then get in car and drive to uni and Jack surprise B and say he loves him more than hockey.”

“Do we have enough time? Traffic is getting crappy,” Marty asked.

“For love, there is no traffic,” Tater added dramatically.

“Shit. Well everyone, finish eating,” Jack said.

“See, Zimmboni? I said I get you laid,” Tater added matter-of-factly. “I keep promise!”

After they were done eating, the group ran out of The Rose and the Crown and began arguing over who would drive with whom.

“We should just pile into Thirdy’s car,” Snowy yelled out. “He has the most room what with his million kids and all.”

“I see how it is, you all chirp the hell out me for driving a minivan -- and now, now it’s the best damn thing on wheels.”

Everyone nodded as they all raced toward the minivan.

“I call shotgun,” Guy yelled.

“Jack should sit in the front, this is his rom-com moment after all!” Poots replied.

“Hypocrites,” Thirdy said as he unlocked the doors. “Hypocrites, the lot of you. I never want to hear another disparaging word about Glenda ever again.”

“Who the fuck is Glenda?” Guy asked as he moved a couple car seats to the back of the minivan.

Thirdy patted the dashboard, “My car. My baby. Miss Glenda.”

“Okay, just get in,” Jack yelled. “Thirdy, Glenda is amazing. Thank you, now let’s go!”

As they were about to merge onto I-95, Jack noticed a Target across the street and yelled out, “Pull over! We have to stop at Target. I need to get something!”

“Target‽ We don’t have time for that,” Marty called out.

“Please, we have to!”

Thirdy looked in his mirror, and then did a quick U-turn to pull into the parking lot -- tires screeched along the way.

“Okay, we’ll buy tickets online while you go to Target. Come back in five minutes! OKAY‽” Snowy yelled out as Jack was in the process of unfastening his seat belt. 

“HURRY!” Poots yelled out the window and watched as Jack sprinted inside the store.

 **+++**

15 minutes later they were back on the road, _Shut Up Kiss Me_ played on the radio, and Jack was finishing up his Target surprise for Bitty. 

Jack’s heart pounded in his chest -- what if Bitty _had_ moved on? What if he had blown his chance? There were so many what ifs floating around in his head, but the reward of the one potential Yes made it all worth it.

Jack pulled out his phone and quickly shot off a text to Shitty.

 **Jack** : _Shits, it’s time for me be happy. I want to be happy._

Shitty replied almost immediately.

 **Shitty** : _YOU FUCKING CANADIAN BEAUT! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!!!! :D_

 **Jack** : _I’m on my way to Samwell._

 **Shitty** : _Go, Jack! Go! Go get your boy and be happy, you fucker. I’m sobbing right now, you fool. GO, JACK! GOOOO!_

They pulled into the Faber parking lot at 6:25 and ran to the door. Jack led the way, as Marty dashed to Will Call for their tickets.

The ticket taker blinked and could barely speak upon being confronted by a group of Providence Falconers.

“Enjoy your game?” she said breathlessly as Guy flashed her a thumbs up.

Jack swallowed dryly, as everyone gathered in their seats. Their seats were as good as they could be for last minute purchases. Not in the front, but not nosebleed, and Jack was thankful. 

Tater looked at Jack and said with a wink, “You okay, Puke Skywalker? Not looking so good, there.”

“I’m okay, Tater. I think…”

Tater smiled and waved for the popcorn vendor. 

“Oh, and Tater?” Jack said.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

Tater smiled and patted Jack on the knee, “It’s good. I be best man at wedding, and we call it even.”

Jack smiled and looked out onto the rink as the Faber announcer said, “And now… welcome to the ice your fabulous Samwell men’s hockey team!”

The guys all hollered and applauded, as the Wellies took the ice. Jack scanned the players and then saw him, number 15. There he was. Bitty glid across the ice. 

Just then, Jack couldn’t contain himself anymore. 

He just had to let Bitty know he was there. 

He just wanted to let the entire world know he was there just for Bitty -- to let this wonderful ray of sunshine know he was in love with him and never wanted to be apart from him again. 

Jack stood up, he unrolled the poster board he bought at Target and decorated in the minivan, and then yelled out, “There you go, number 15!” 

This was it, his first ever grand sweeping romantic gesture -- all for Eric Richard Bittle.

The rest of the guys then jumped up as well, as they yelled for Bitty.

**+**

As Bitty skated, he thought he heard his name being called which was odd because hardly ever did anyone call for him. Holster? Sure! Ransom? Yes indeedy! But never a Bitty. 

Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lardo jump up and down. He stopped skating and looked at her, who in turn pointed toward the crowd.

Bitty squinted as he tried to make out what she was saying, then followed her finger and looked up into the seats. 

There in the middle of a shouting pile of Falconers, stood Jack Zimmermann with sign which read _**~* ❤ Be My VIP, Eric Bittle! ❤ *~**_

At this point, Ransom and Holster shouted, “Yeah!” and high fived one another. 

Bitty stood stupefied, not quite sure what was actually happening. Had he just gotten another concussion? Was he hallucinating? Was this the afterlife? What the what?

Bitty skated closer to the boards and looked up toward Jack, who waved the sign and smiled broadly at Bitty. By then, the announcer caught wind of their famous visitors and the event unfolding before them.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it appears we have some special guests at Faber this evening! Please welcome members of the NHL Providence Falconers. And, it seems Jack Zimmermann is a particularly big fan of our own number 15, Eric Bittle!”

Bitty threw his head back with laughter as Jack waved.

“And now, welcome to the ice the Yale Bulldogs…”

**+**

The game was both the fastest and slowest game Jack Zimmermann had ever witnessed.

Bitty and the Wellies were on fire as they were leading 4-0, with Bitty providing two assists in the second period.

With every goal the Samwell team scored, each player pointed at Jack in the stands. The cellies were all Zimmermann-centered.

By the time the game was over, Jack vibrated with anticipation. 

Samwell won with a score of 5-0 and when it was done, Jack ran down to meet Lardo who stood off to side of the rink, waving him down.

“Go get him, Zimmboni!” Tater called out. “Go get him!”

“How goes it, Zimmermann?” Lardo said holding a clipboard.

“Hi, Lardo.”

“What are you doing here?” she asked as she raised an eyebrow, and held a stern expression.

“I’m here for Bitty.”

“Are you now? He was a mess you know.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“Yes,” Jack said sadly. “I know because I felt the same way -- if not worse.”

“You hurt him,” she said angrily.

“Yes.”

“Don’t ever do it again.”

Jack nodded, looked Lardo in the eye and said, “I won’t. Ever.”

Lardo studied his face for a moment and said, “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve had to listen to _Have You Seen?_ Too many. Every night for weeks.”

Jack frowned. 

She then smiled softly and said, “Come on, Prince Frowning. Follow me.”

Lardo led Jack to the locker room and said, “Wait here. Oh, and that sign?”

“Yes?”

“Not bad, Zimmermann. Not bad at all,” she said with a smirk then disappeared into the locker room.

A few minutes later, Bitty appeared at the door as he wore his hockey pants and shin guards. His face was flushed red, and his hair was a sweaty mess matted down in some parts and stuck straight up in others. Jack had never seen anyone as beautiful as Bitty looked in that moment. 

Jack could barely breathe, as Bitty stood a few inches in front of Jack.

“Jack?”

“Bitty.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I… I wanted to see you.”

“Why?”

Jack swallowed and absolutely knew he was done being afraid. If Bitty rejected him, so be it, but Jack would live life knowing he tried -- and he wanted Bitty to know how he felt.

“I’ve been a fool, Bitty.”

“Oh?”

“Bitty, I’m so sorry. I know I’ve been unjust… and weak. I have no excuse. I haven’t been able to stop thinking of you.” 

Bitty smiled, and then his expression changed. “So you think you can just waltz in here unannounced, say sorry, and that makes it all better?”

“I’m hoping. You alone have brought me to Faber. For you alone, Bitty, I think and plan… about my life, about what _our_ lives could be like.” 

Bitty closed in slightly, and said, “Jack, I was so miserable. I mean, the way you left things… it was not nice. You broke my heart, Jack.”

“I know, Bitty. I’m so sorry.”

“How can I trust what you say? How can I believe you, Jack?” 

“Because it’s true. I... I hear the beating of a second heart, and it’s yours inside mine. You live in me now, Bitty. Eric. I never want to be apart for you ever again.”

“Jack...” Bitty whispered staring into Jack’s eyes. “If you’re going for broke with the romantic gestures, you are really working it, mister.”

Jack smiled as Bitty closed the distance between them. Jack cupped Bitty’s jaw and stroked his hair away from his forehead. Bitty’s gaze swept across Jack’s face, as Jack leaned in and finally kissed him, small and tender. 

The two melted into the warmth of it all as their lips touched.

Bitty pushed up on this tiptoes and deepened the kiss. Jack, in turn, wrapped his arms around Bitty’s waist, and then sighed.

He broke the kiss and rested his forehead on Bitty’s.

“Wow,” Bitty said with eyes closed.

Jack squeezed Bitty tightly, while Bitty squeaked and said, “Jack, honey. I smell!”

“Don’t care,” Jack murmured as he held Bitty even tighter.

Bitty laughed and buried his face in Jack’s chest. 

“That was a good game, Bittle,” Jack said then kissed Bitty’s nose as he looked up at Jack.

Bitty smiled and cheekily said, “Well, _one_ of us should have good game!”

“Are you really going to chirp me right now?” 

“Yeah, I am. And the day after and the day after that…”

“Good,” Jack said with laughter bright and happy. 

He then leaned in to kiss Bitty again, as he would the day after and the day after that…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Have You Seen?](https://youtu.be/IjU9bycvens) by Sharon van Etten.
> 
> [Shut Up Kiss Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nleRCBhLr3k) by Angel Olsen. (I told you I loved that song!)
> 
> Some of Jack’s speech may have been inspired by Captain Wentworth’s [famous letter](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frederick_Wentworth_\(Persuasion\)#Wentworth.27s_love_letter) in _Persuasion_. I love that letter, and this also serves as a nod and wink to my friend [Devereauxs_Disease](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Devereauxs_Disease/pseuds/Devereauxs_Disease).
> 
> This has been a story about love and lust and connection -- and meeting The One, but mainly I feel this has also been a love story to Jack from Jack. Jack learned to love _himself_ completely and let himself want, and have. It’s a story about self-acceptance and growth for Jack. 
> 
> Finally! I’ve made this a series because there will be **one** more fic added to this universe. There will be an epilogue of sorts on their relationship with some *cough* _smut_ *cough* snuggles. Stay tuned. :D


End file.
